


Sweet Supernova

by rabiosareads



Series: A Saturated Sunrise [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Happy Ending, Maternal instincts activated!, Planet exploring, Resolved Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved, Vulnerability, complicated relationship, tw: talk about death, we all know din djarin is extremely touch deprived
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23763829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabiosareads/pseuds/rabiosareads
Summary: Attachment was never good in a business like this, they both knew, but they both couldn’t help but become tangled in the thick of it.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Series: A Saturated Sunrise [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748806
Comments: 42
Kudos: 208





	1. In Between Waves

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this chapter from the song Please Don't Die by Father John Misty, just in case you want to engage with this piece further!

She did not wait for the Mandalorian to drop the legs of the _ Razor Crest _ to lean against the door, hand on the control panel. She couldn’t remember what and where this planet was because as soon as he used the words ‘oceans’ and ‘sand’ to describe it she was fully committed. The cold sleepless nights were enough to drive anyone insane and if it wasn’t for his mysterious supply of heat packets, her jaw would slack permanently from the shivering. He would wrap her and the child in various blankets, heavy and military grade, while he sat solid at his chair. At times she would stare at the side of his helmet, the bright cool lights of hyperspace gleaming off of his smooth beskar, wondering how one could get used to the empty and loneliness of space. She also wondered how funny fate worked, how a possible misstep of his boot or the wrong turn down her village could’ve made a lifetime of difference. She rubbed the grooves of the metal in thought, her shoulder tense. Regardless of what choices were made, she was on a warm planet and was going to be there for a while. 

The ship shook slightly underneath her boots, her stomach jumping in excitement. The child cooed behind her curiously, raising his head up. She looks down in his crib, his head cocking to the side and ears bobbing. She winked, pulling it closer to her. 

“Just wait, my sweet,” she cooed sweetly. “It’s going to be warm and the ocean, it’s going to be bigger than anything you’ve ever seen in your fifty years…”

Despite his heavy armor Mando never ceased in surprising her with his stealthy efforts. “Where are you going?”

She jumped against his chest, her elbow landing against his beskar with a harsh thud. “Kriff! Mando!” she held a delicate hand to her chest, breathing heavily.

“You’re not going out there with the kid.” he briskly demanded. She glared at him, seeing her warped reflection in the t shaped glass. 

“Oh yes I am. We’re going to be here for a while and I intend to enjoy it.”

“We are not here for a vacation.” he reminded, leaning against the door. She cocked her head while slamming her hand on the bottom, the hatch slowly lowering itself.

“You’re not. But I am.”

The warmth of the planet’s atmosphere crept up her ankles, circling itself around her body. The strong smell of sea salt stung her eyes as well as the sun’s rays. She could tell Mando was tense with worry, judging by his pulled shoulders and erect neck, but her overwhelmed senses kept her from acknowledging it. It didn’t bother her the insistence that Mando had; it was in his nature. He always displayed a need of concern, whether that be through his vocoder deepening in tone or his clothed hand constantly remaining at the small of her back. Always on high alert, always so  _ damn tense.  _ Before they landed she begged him to at least let his toes sink into the sand, however he protested with one of his sarcastic quips. Figures.

“Do you feel that, Mando?” she whispered, his heart skipping a beat. The way her whispers were always so delicate, its words picking up with the wind, it made him react physically. Like a pang of realization that someone so gentle, so quick, so elegant existed and was in front of him, not a hot apparition that he would imagine in dark times.

He stood there, watching her neck roll in circles. She winked at him before skipping to the edge, dragging the crib with her. His natural instinct jumped out and rushed behind her, the brightness making him flinch.

“I said, do you feel that?” she yelled, picking up the child. It giggled against her hip while she hurried Mando with her hand. Standing next to her she laid a heavy hand on his shoulder, balancing herself to remove her boots and socks. 

She was close. Dangerously close. So close that he could count every lash, see every freckle, and notice how her bright eyes swam with pure delight. His stomach deepened with yearning once more. She sunk her feet into the sand, the texture surprisingly soft and warm, sending sweetness up her spine.

“I think I feel heaven.”

She swayed against the soft breezes, listening to the foliage dance around her. She noticed he landed near the beach’s entrance, the ship smartly covered with tall trees and dense bushes. The trail of sand led out to strokes of cerulean and robin blue. She looked up at him, hand still on his shoulder.

“Let me show the child the ocean.” she asked, blinking softly. Heat crept up his heavy back, letting her hand fall off the armor. Her face began to blush from the heat, a small smirk on her face.

“You always do that.”

She slung the child to her other hip. “Do what?”

“Blink like that. When you want something.” 

“And you make me suspicious that you are not a man underneath that beskar, but a well made droid, with the way you talk to me,” she retorted, stepping closer to him. “I also asked you if I could take the child to see the ocean.”

He felt a pang of guilt and irritation. Why did he continue to treat her like a child? Was it the asset she promised to take care of? No one else could do a better job than she can, a natural nurturer. Or was it simply the thought of her coming to harm? Also… did she have the audacity to compare his emotions to a  _ droid?  _ The possibility of it made him sick. He had come to this planet countless times during his route, he knew each grain and each leaf. 

“Stay close to the ship.”

Her smile spread open, showing glistening teeth, before bobbing the child up and down to get him to laugh with her. She held him close while trotting closer to the ocean, whispering to him all of the different sights and sounds. “You should come too! Relaxing may, I don’t know, calm you down. Or so I’ve heard.”

He shook his head, crossing his arms. “I’ll watch you from here.”

She rolled her eyes, biting her cheek. He secretly admired her hair, done up in intricate braids and a long ponytail, shined and swayed down to her lower back. She looked at peace finally, having him considering her to be right. Relaxing this way would calm him down. 

But not today. Mando took a seat on the edge of the door, deciding to work on his weakening vambrace. He scooted back into the shade of the ship, sweat slowly gathering around his neck. He heard a sudden shrill laugh, shooting his head up. 

The child was waddling across the sand, his hands in the air. She sat with her arms out, wiggling her fingers to guide him towards her. He hadn’t heard the child laugh that loudly, in pure happiness, all because of her. He was frozen with the content scene, letting it settle into his mind to replay it over and over. He picked up the shell and took it to her, while she gasped in joy, obviously to entertain it. “Wow my sweet, what is this? Isn’t it so nice, look at the way it curves and shines!”

_ What a natural.  _ He wanted to take off his beskar, letting the breeze cool down his heated body and settling in between scattered leaves. Continuing on his vambrace repairs, he wondered how she maintained a sense of calmness in front of any storm. Countless times the  _ Razor Crest  _ has been thrown out of hyperspace, countless times have blasters grazed her skin, countless times have the child been thrown against the wall in protection, yet all she managed to express was a gasp. He had greeted death at his door many times, even made friends with it, but she merely ignored the invitation and kept him going. The way she would balance between covering wounds, spreading ointments and keeping conversation was better than any medical care he could ever receive, all because while she did it, her natural glow would keep him grounded.

It kept him up at night. It kept him up even past insomnia, where sleep’s hand would bob his head up and down. The impending anxiety weighed on him, heavier than any body he’d ever carry, heavier than the rich steel on his back. She slept so peacefully, a veil of confidence, while he paced the cockpit. He made sure to stay in the darkest part of the ship, living amongst the shadows, heart racing at the thought of her waking up to seeing his face. His creed was his entire life but he would lie if he didn’t hold the aching thought of her laying eyes on his bare face. At times he begged for it, watching her chest rise up and down in deep sleep, that she would rise like a spirit and glide to him, seeing what he saw in her in the reflection of mocha eyes. 

Mando craved for her to understand his complexity. He noticed her face would contort in thought, trying to decipher his complex emotions, only to be content with the bare minimum and met with a sweet smile.

He decided to let that thought go, finally relaxing into the scene. Letting a sigh escape his lips, he leaned his neck back.  _ Maybe it isn’t so bad.  _

“Mando!” she yelled, jogging towards him. Her face was flushing a deeper red from the heat, creeping up to her now exposed chest. She tied her sweatshirt around her hips and her flowing genie pants were rolled up to her knees. He looked at her scars, some puffy with discolored skin and deep tissue, decorated up her arms and strong shoulders. 

He hummed in response. “Come on, come look at this ocean!”

“I have work to do--”

“What, an old vambrace that you work on every few days?” she puffed her cheeks. “Stop being a grumpy old man and just come with me.”

“I have  _ work  _ to do.” he retorted, his vocador deepening his voice. She pulled back, mouth slightly open with shock. He pulled his shoulders back in regret, trying to lower his hitched breath behind the helmet. 

_ Fuck I didn’t mean it like that.  _

Instead of turning her back like she would, letting him fester in his irritation, she sat next to him. The faraway waves and occasional breeze in between the ship’s cracks silenced them both. She scooted closer, his body tensing up from the close physical contact. She pulled her legs to her chest, rocking her knees back and forth, occasionally knocking them against his thigh. She laid her head to her shoulder, watching the child play with the shell.

“Then I’ll wait for you until you’re finished.”

He was surprised yet again by her patience. He suddenly couldn’t think of the work he had to do, as if there was any to do. It could wait. It could wait, for her. He was too proud to admit so he continued working mindlessly on his arm. 

“Why are you so insistent on me seeing the ocean?” he asked, breaking the silence. “I’ve seen so many oceans, enough for a lifetime.”

She sneered, flicking her finger on his shoulder. “ _ You  _ have seen them. Personally. I haven’t. I just wanted someone to relish the scene with me.”

“You have the child.” he murmured, avoiding eye contact. She huffed a chuckle.

“Everything to him is pure. You can only entertain it for so long. I just wanted to have someone with me look at them with me with awareness that yeah, the worlds around us aren’t as great as this, but at this moment it didn’t matter.”

It was his turn to stifle a laugh. “You’re a poet.”

She rose up, pretending to kick his back. The child looked up, curious at his reaction.

“And there  _ you  _ go! You always do  _ that. _ ”

“Do what?” he looked back, his voice light.

“Deflect your emotions with stoic one liners and sarcastic jokes.”

He shook his head and she giggled triumphantly. She walked back to the ship, the child getting up to follow her. 

“I’m going to change into something to fit the weather and I’ll be back to pester you about seeing the ocean with me!”

He sighed and shook his head, looking at the child, who whined at her. Mando picked him up, placing him back into the crib. “She never gives up, huh kid?”

* * *

Mando dusted his hands on his pants. He ran out of minuscule tasks to do, which meant he was met with his stubbornness. He stretched his spine long, relieving himself from the crouch he was in for a few hours. She was still at the base of the ship, now laying horizontally to soak up as much sun. Her eyes were closed, lips parted in deep breaths, both hands on her stomach.

She didn’t entirely give up on the idea of having Mando accompany her to the ocean. However with a screaming green child and a man that didn’t know how to handle anything in terms of taking care of other beings, it was enough to exhaust her efforts. He kept apologizing, hands frantic in grabbing toys, blankets and food, but she shooed him away every time.

“He just needs a nap, that’s all,” she explained. “You hear his cry? You can tell by his cries.”

It was frustrating work but she did it every time. And now that ever longing ring of guilt, the Mandalorian let it vibrate off of him, his constant grunts and sighs exuding the feeling. She turned to her side from his incessant noises and he wondered how he got this far without her help.

She turned her head up, her braids loose on her scalp. She leaned her arms back to prop up her upper half, shoulders facing forward and dipping her collarbones. Mando watched as her skin had the steady rays of the lowering sun, strips of marigold and chickadee up her bare thighs and arms. She squinted at the brightness, casting a shadow with her hand.

“Is he still asleep?” she whispered, her voice rough. He nodded, still staying in his place. “Good. Truth be told, he was driving me crazy. He was beyond ready for a nap, poor thing.”

He said nothing. She felt his awkward stance, possibly thinking of something to say.

“I’m sorry.” he murmured, his gaze towards the outside. She cocked an eyebrow, turning her full body to face him.

“About?”

“Earlier. I was rude.”

She hummed at his response. She raised her hand, groaning into the stretch. Grabbing her hand he pulled her up, an automatic reaction. Her hand dwarfed his, delicate yet strong, still resting in his palm. She shook her head, taking her other hand to pat his.

“There’s no need to apologize. I’ll admit I was a bit bitter about it but I can’t force you to do what you don’t want to do.” There was a bit of sadness in her voice, he noticed, but her eyes still had that friendly spark to it.

“It’s not that--” he began before sighing. There was no use in fighting it. “I’m done with my work. Let’s go see it.”

Her smile curled up. She quickly grabbed his hand and tugged it, but then stopped to make sure the hatch was closed to the sleeping child’s quarters. She ran ahead, almost tripping over broken branches, while he huffed another chuckle behind the helmet. She sneered playfully, dropping her hands to the side. His palm ached for her heat once more.

The atmosphere was significantly lower and light than it was from their arrival. Cooler winds picked up the rustling leaves, still bringing along the sea salt from the waves. He was thankful that it was cooler, letting it coat his damp skin. He understood why she hated the cold; the biting snow and longer nights were not comforting to say the least. This, he had to admit, was a version of heaven.

At the end of the foliage were a gathering of bushes, cut to round out the beach. It was a sight to behold; a plethora of colors mixing together, enough to make even the most stoic man stop and stare. The waves were laced with a milky foam, pulling in tides of the same sweet blue from the bleeding sky above. The gradient of tuscan yellow, mandarin and slivers of eggplant pulled together, leaving a cut out for the obnoxiously bright sun. 

She gaped at the view, looking back at Mando. “Have you ever seen something so… So…”

“Pretty sure I saw something like this on Chandrila once.” he scoffed, gazing towards the sun. She groaned at his playful arrogance.

“Gods Mando, you’re hilarious,” she mocked, waving her hands in the air in theatrics. “You’re probably smiling so smug underneath that big ol’ bucket helmet of yours too.”

At this he let out a breathy laugh. “Hey watch out, I’m very sensitive about its size.”

She watched the sunset spread across his beskar, the cool steel contrasting against the warmth, gleaming with equal light. She cocked her head to the side, as she does in thought, his head still towards the ocean.

“What?” he asked as she stepped closer. Suddenly he was afraid to look at her. Afraid to get lost in her eyes, afraid to latch on to the possibility that their simple alliance could be something more.

“Can I ask you something?” she whispered, letting the waves speak in a higher volume. He turned his head to her.

“Depends.”

“Why do you wander the ship so much? Do you not sleep?”

He didn’t expect that kind of question. Usually people (by people, in this instance, bounties) would ask what and who he was underneath the helmet, how someone could walk around with pure intimidation without revealing any scowl or snarl, or how many people he killed with his bare hands. He let a few waves crash along the shore.

“I rest here and there,” he settled his arms across his chest. “I don’t necessarily sleep all night.”

“What keeps you up?” she leaned closer, her shoulder against his arm. “Is it the child?”

He swallowed a hard lump at her effort to get closer. She was always this way, to talk so close and so low. The extreme intimacy never ceased to let tension creep his perfect posture.

“He’s part of it. He’s my responsibility, among other things.”

“But don’t I help you relieve that anxiety?” her soft voice inquired. 

“You do,” he reassured. “And for that I’m grateful. Trust me.”

She let the gesture settle in her bones. “So it’s out of habit, your sleeping habits?”

He nodded. He was closing up, she knew, but she pressed on. “Do you… do you have nightmares? Does this job keep you up?”

“I do have nightmares. This job does keep me up. But…” he trailed off. His simple answers spoke volumes of pain. She let a hand drop to her side, brushing her knuckles against his wrist. Her throat closed up and she gulped back tears. 

“Do you want me to stop asking you questions?” she suggested, letting tears pool in her eyes. He didn’t answer, instead he turned his hand to face hers. His clothed palm radiating heat towards hers, longing to touch the warm flesh, but retreating back to the side of his thigh. His sigh was deep from his ribs, shaking his core, the butterflies in his belly knocking around.

She didn’t understand why she suddenly got emotional. The emotion was receptive and physical, holding a grip on her heart. She cared all too severely, so rushed and so violently. Attachment was never good in a business like this, they both knew, but they both couldn’t help but become tangled in the thick of it.

“No,” he finally answered. “You can continue. I’m sorry.”

She squinted at the sun. “Hmm… do you stay up… because of me?”

The butterflies knocked harder, their wings slapping against his ribcage. “W-what do you mean?”  _ Damn it.  _

“Well… sometimes at night, when I can’t sleep, I can hear you walking about my cot. You take careful steps, I know not to look up, but I still feel you linger. So I can’t sleep unless you do, or unless you act like you do. That’s why I ask.”

She felt like she slipped too much around the conversation. Now, she thought, she really pulled a hard left down an alley she didn’t want to be caught in. He’s going to close up, he’s going to walk away, he’s going to let it fester in him until it eats him alive and he kicks her off to the next planet. She’s so sure of it, she braced herself for the impending doom.

“You’re just another thing on my list that I worry about.” he simply stated, ignoring the creeping blush crawling up his neck. She exhaled slowly, leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“You don’t have to. That’s why I agreed to join you, hmm? To relieve some of that stress?”

He thought that if he moved even an inch he would implode. He looked with the corner of his eye at her flowing hair, wondering what sweet and savory scents it could hold.

He wanted to say it, but it sat on his tongue. Would it break his code? What kind of dam would he open with this kind of talk? There were endless novels of words he wanted to spill.

_ Say it. Say it. Say it.  _

“You’re… you’re something I care about. I take care of things I care about.”

She didn’t want to react to it physically. In any other instance she would jump in front of him, tease him with a joke or two, watching him crawl in embarrassment back to the  _ Razor Crest  _ and hide in his room until the next morning. Instead she let the words settle in her ears, replaying his husky voice in her head. However she didn’t want to let his words go without validation.

“Thank you,” she slipped out, finally taking his wrist. “For letting me know. But can you reassure me one thing? Last thing, I promise!”

He hummed in response. “I’m okay. He’s okay. We’re both okay. Make sure that you’re okay once and a while, alright?”

Her softly spoken request bloomed something in him. He couldn’t put a finger on it but it must’ve been what he was waiting for: validation. Desire. Want. A singing yearn for what was offered. This was getting dangerous, his muscles were hot, his mind was scrambled in thought. He thought of ways to escape, excuses to make, literally  _ anything  _ to not let it make him  _ weak.  _

“Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed, turning her head towards the ship. “I don’t want the baby to go to sleep tonight hungry!”

She began her walk back to the ship, looking back at Mando. “I’ll be right back, don’t you move! When I come back I want to hear a thousand and one words why this view can never compare to anything you’ve apparently seen on a planet like Chandrila!”

She ended her sentence with a laugh, trotting in the sinking sand. He wished he could throw himself into the ocean, let the waves sink him, letting barnacles gather on his beskar and fish feed on his flesh. Anything to relieve the carnal ache. 


	2. Flightless Bird

Hot lips trailed up the sternum, dragging its flesh on damp skin. Lungs were filled with hurried breaths, voices speaking in tongues, letting the words whiplash on vulnerable bodies. Fingers were stiff, spines erect, a twist of limbs and joints. Their tastes were on their tongue, forbidden yet sweet, their ways blinded after that first bite. Hips rolled with such lazy waves yet pressured into points that neither of them thought existed. The room merely vibrated with disparity, with something simply so _animalistic,_ toe curling sensations that rocked their atmosphere. Jaws slacked, the saccharine voice repeated the name, over and over, pure and blessed pleasure seeping onto every syllable. 

_Mando_

_Mando._

_Mando, please._

Hyperspace smacked Mando’s body back into his chair. He gasped from the sudden force, then groaning in great frustration. He dozed off in the cockpit. Again. A plethora of noises began to rang in the cockpit, warning him of sudden shocks to the system from the jerk. He quickly worked the pad, making sure the systems were aligned again and for the two of them to not wake up from their slumber. He finally sat back when the _Razor Crest_ stopped shaking, smoothing its path towards Nevarro.

He sank into his seat, leaning his head back. His helmet made a slight thud on the edge of the chair. He closed his eyes, replaying their last interaction over and over again like a movie. 

He held his end of the promise when she came back to the beach. Baby in arms and food in one hand, she watched him tell his story with starry eyes, her animated reactions amusing him. Usually people would ask to go straight into the gritty details (to which, of course, went ignored) but he didn’t want to keep anything out. It seemed to flow out of him so easily, letting her interject with questions with no irritation and encouraging reactions. He would chuckle at her grasping the child, who wiggled carelessly, nodding her head to continue. It was childish. It was absolutely adorable.

“Wow Mando,” she breathed when he finished. “Maybe you weren’t lying when you said you’ve seen better oceans.”

“This is one of the nicest,” he admitted. “When I go to these planets I don’t get to have the luxury of enjoying them.”

She pinched more food into her fingers to gently push into the baby’s mouth. The night was dawning on the planet and she could feel her stomach twitch from hunger.

“Out of all the planets you’ve visited, which one would you like to settle down in? If you were able to?” a blush crept up her neck from the suggested question.

“Sorgan,” he answered without missing a beat. “Before you I went there with the child to find refuge from the Guild. There was a peaceful village, he seemed to like it as well.”

“Oh! This was the one that was full of Klatoonian raiders, hmm?”

He nodded. “I stayed there for a while. I think you’d like it.”

His compliment bloomed a warm beam in their bodies. She let her glow seep through her throaty laugh and watery eyes, while he compressed his into his chest. He couldn’t help but slip out a few compliments here and there, even if they sounded modulated. He _needed_ her to feel welcomed.

“I don’t know where I would go,” she pondered. “Don’t know how you can stay on Nevarro for so long, sand is so annoying. Everyone talks about Naboo back home too, they say that it’s the height of society…! Or, you know, you can also drop me off at Chandrila?”

He smirked at her teasing. “For that you settle on Naboo. Maybe you’re secretly half-Gungan, that’s why you mention it.”

She set the child back in his crib and let out an airy laugh. “I can’t believe you think of me as half-Gungan! That’s one of the worst things you’ve ever said, Mando!”

His mind snapped back to reality. He contemplated waking her up, just to see her. He offered to watch the child while she rested, but she, of course, refused. She mumbled something along the lines of how comfortable it was to cuddle him, but it trailed off into a sigh. Her limbs were of golden honey from the sun, the contrast apparent between straps of cotton, eyes heavy. Truthfully that was part of the reason why he offered to leave him in the cockpit. He just didn’t want to be lonely while skipping parsecs back to base.

He heard a small gargle behind him, his dipped head going back farther to check. The child waddled towards Mando, eyes still slightly shut with sleep. His arms went up and Mando sighed deeply, his knees wobbly from the sudden jerk, picking him up.

“How did you get out, buddy?” he whispered, his body fitting perfectly between his bent arm and chest. They both sat there in silence, watching the pitch black canvas spread across the windows. The planet began to stretch into view so he immediately navigated the ship towards it.

“My sweet! How did you get up from the cot?” her soft spoken voice peeped through the dimly lit cockpit. He heard her feet drag along the cold ship’s floor and a small yawn escaping her lips. She looked down at the two of them, extending a free arm to grab him. 

“I got him.” he murmured, gesturing to her to sit in the seat behind him. “We’re approaching Nevarro so buckle in.”

She said nothing back and did what was told. She slouched in her seat, rubbing the corners of her eyes to get rid of any remnants of her sleep. She noticed that Mando was in the same position as he was when they left the ocean. She aligned her hips upright, bringing up a knee, resting her forehead on it.

“Did you sleep a bit?” her voice was low yet concerning.

“Yeah, a bit,” he admitted. “Took naps here and there.”

She bit her cheek. _That was as good as it was going to get, I guess._

“Hmm… I’m asking Greef Karga if he knows any quick remedies for sleep deprivation.”

He shot his head to her. “You will do no such thing.”

“I will do such a thing. At least for a day.”

His irritation was slightly rising. The child could feel it, turning his head frequently to try and look back at her reaction. He didn’t need a babysitter. He didn’t need her sudden hyperfixation for his wellbeing. She sat there, forehead still glued to her knee, her breathing steady. She rose up, slacking her head to her shoulder, closing her eyes.

“I’ll see what kind of jobs you have and go from there. It’s not like I’m going to drug you and take your beskar and ship. Although I assume it’ll be worth a _fortune_.”

He felt selfish. Embarrassed that she switched the playing field again. Once again, without her knowledge, he let it fester.

* * *

“Mando! Baby!”

It was always a joy to her to see Greef Karga. No matter the situation he always seemed so warm and full of energy, the exact opposite of the statuesque Mandalorian. He didn’t notice her trailing in the back, as she usually did. He peeked behind Mando and called her name, his arms open.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you behind Mando.” he apologized with a smile, patting her shoulder. She beamed naturally at his honeyed words.

“It’s okay, you know he walks fast and with authority.” she teased, letting him lead the way into the cantina. 

Mando trailed behind a bit, his palm opened to lead her next to him. They could come into this particular cantina every single day and he wouldn’t let his guard down even for a second. The slimy patrons have always perked their ears up at pretty people, especially one as pretty as she. On several occasions they were bold enough to make a pass on her, but she was even more daring, letting venom slip through sweet words quicker than Mando could whip out his blaster. Sure, it left her shaking with adrenaline but one couldn’t help but be a bit dangerous when you have the most notorious bounty hunter to defend you. 

He tried to ignore the incessant conversation going on as he slipped into the booth, keeping close. His eyes rolled from the obviously flirtatious tone from Greef and his shoulders tensed when he offered her a drink.

“We are not here to celebrate.” Mando coldly interrupted.

“Well we should be, considering the winning streak you’ve been riding on,” Greef joked, looking at her. “What do you say? A celebratory drink to keep the mood?”

She giggled, placing her lips on the child’s head. “If you’re offering caf, sure. It was a long night, I can barely keep my eyes awake.”

“I’m sure it was…” Greef trailed off, winking at Mando. He said nothing, letting the acid bubble, as Greef motioned for a droid to bring them drinks.

“What do you have for me?” Mando asked.

“Well! It’s a usual week for the Guild, what with corrupted politicians, thieves and the like. The best I can offer you is a Devaronian gambler that owes quite a bit of money to some very important people.” The fob lights up with the hologram of the snarling man, the hologram twitching. 

She winced at his intimidating face, sipping her caf. “Gods I wouldn’t borrow anything from this man.”

Mando huffed at her reaction. “Where are his last whereabouts?”

“Coruscant. Most likely in the underbelly of the Galactic City. But truth be told Mando, his whereabouts were known from a few days ago. Who knows if he left the planet by now.”

That didn’t settle with the bounty hunter well. He grabbed the single fob and rose, signifying for her to quickly finish her caf. She gulped and slid the cup out of the child’s reach.

“Thank you Greef, for the caf and the fob!” she bowed, waving him goodbye.

“Ah Mando, you can learn a thing or two from your partner! A couple of manners wouldn’t hurt!” he called back.

This time Mando let her trail behind. She hadn’t noticed his switch in demeanor, even as his legs picked up in pace, instead just striding towards the _Razor Crest_. She looked down at the child then back towards the cantina, gasping.

“Oh! I forgot to ask Greef--”

“Let’s go.”

“Well wait, let me ask him--”

“No. Let’s go _now._ ”

Now she noticed. She froze in place, her throat clenching. She tried to blame it on his tired bones, but the way that his voice bellowed behind the helmet, it was pent up anger. The child dug his head on the side of her chest, squinting at the light. Mando looked behind him, ushering her into the ship. He noticed the hurt on her face, bottom lip quivering, however she said nothing and slowly walked up the ramp. She placed the child in his pod, buckled in without his reminder, and sat back. Punching in the coordinates to Coruscant, his eyes were strictly focused out the window.

\--

Space was quiet but the _Razor Crest_ was quieter. The ship lulled through the galaxy, the billions of stars dragging by. It was so uncomfortable; the two of them were too afraid to breathe louder than any working component. They were slowly creeping towards Coruscant, almost at a crawl. Her face was still of stone, her lips in a tight line. The tears that stung her eyes laid in her throat and now manifested into anger. Mando treated her like a delicate little thing and it was beginning to catch on. She argued with herself in her mind, projecting it to him, secretly hoping he could peek into her mind and see the conflict.

_He’s so ungrateful. For what? Who does he think he is? I don’t care if he’s the best kriffing bounty hunter of the kriffing galaxy. I agreed to help out, I didn't agree to get barked at. I’m a grown woman. I have feelings too. With his stupid kriffing bucket helmet and his stupid kiffing “oh look at me, I am a Mandalorian, I can be an asshole to everyone that tries to because it adds to my brooding character--_

She unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed her body up with a huff. Mando’s head twitched to peer at her but he stayed, slightly regretting his small temper tantrum. But he was a man of restraint. However, with her, he always felt just a tinge of slack.

“We’re approaching Coru--”

“I’m going to lay down.”

There was that whip of venom. He stood his ground and kept his words tight, simply reaching out to his board and punching in commands. The hiss of her door opened and closed with a hasty speed. The cockpit was his again, to wallow in his shame, but the feeling deepened when he heard a small sniffle from the door. He turned his head slowly, afraid of confirming the noise, until the sniffles turned in quiet sobs. She tried to hiccup back tears by stuffing her face into her hands, but these walls could only mute so much.

His heart began to race anxiously, trying to focus back on landing. His initial layer of insecurity told him that she was simply overreacting. But with every hiccup it ate him alive, heat building up on the back of his neck. He wasn’t used to this conflicting battle in his chest: nervous, sad, desperate, confused, angry. To who? To what?

Looking at his map he found a secluded strip of land to park the ship, so as to integrate himself into the urban areas and blend in (well, as well as a Mandalorian could). Her sobbing was turned down but to occasional hiccups and swallows. He opened the hatch to the ship then hesitated. 

He stood in front of her door, knocking a bit too loudly. “Hey.”

She said nothing, hearing his beskar drag down the door. “I’m leaving. I’ll be gone for a few days. Take care of the kid.”

He waited a few seconds for a confirmation. The creaking of the bed and deep sigh told him enough. He wanted to say sorry. To have her come out and hold his hand and face and for him to explain that she was essential to him. Instead he disappeared. 

* * *

The under belly of Coruscant was as slimy as he heard from other Guild members. There was a thick smog in the air and he was grateful that his helmet could smooth out the thickness of it. The contrast of class was stark. The neon lights were coated with something sinister, the upper level’s lights shining down like heaven was mocking them. He was comfortable in the shadows however. There were so many species and beings in these cracks that he looked like one of the locals. The lights didn’t give away his shine, perhaps a few curious glances, but all in all fitting into the cracks.

He found a cantina packed with curious individuals, deciding this is where he’ll host his stake out. There had to be several cantinas, clubs and sketchy gatherings in the lower levels but this one seemed to be the most ‘normal’. He slipped into a booth, sliding an arm around the back of it, and waited.

He studied the crowd to keep himself cool. Twi’lek women giggled underneath the arms of human men, seeking some fun. He noticed a group of Besalisk gambling credits, boisterous and obnoxious, while the Togruta waitress wiped down the bar with annoyance. But not one Devaronian.

The Togruta woman came around, peering at the Mandalorian with squinted yet curious eyes.

“What can I get you, bounty hunter?”

He waved his hand to tell her to leave. He leaned his head back and kept staring at the door, fixated on a pawn shop’s bright Basic name in berry purple lights. He considered the risk of going to explore this seedy section. It reminded him of his old self, who purposely sought out a quick lust filled hookup or the buzz of alcohol in his veins, begging _anyone and anything_ to fight him. It was feral so he suppressed it, finally deciding that that wasn’t him any longer. He had responsibilities, he had commitments.

_Shit._

Now he could’ve used that drink. She came back to creep in his mind, sinking her claws, whispering in his ear how much he messed this up. He didn’t bring her along just to have her on a leash, he needed help. Did he do this often, push people away, due to his own insecurities? He looked down at his open palms, letting his fingers flex behind his gloves.

_I’ll make it up to her. She mentioned needing clothes, I’ll buy her clothes. I can get her some food, she always mentioned that she enjoyed sweets. After this bounty, she can have whatever she wants._

He merely assumed that’s what she wanted. To shower her with gifts and desires, watch her light up, cheeks rosy with pure euphoria, his lips kissing apologies on her hot skin--

“Mandalorian….!” an absolutely sharp and scornful voice suddenly screamed in his ear.

* * *

“He’ll come back, sweet thing, we just have to be patient.”

It has been two weeks and her stomach was absolutely sick with nerves. She was confident with his skill; at times he would leave for weeks on end but made sure to check up and leave on a good note. This time around there was nothing of the sort. Add that to a exhausting food supply and a cranky fifty year old baby, she’s got quite a situation.

He kept crying into her chest with such a high pitched whine it made her own eyeballs tremble with ache. She had an idea of what kind of cry that was, one out of pure irritation, but at that time she was at a loss. She tried everything in the book, even slinging him on her back and feeding him rationed food, but he kept screaming. The bags under her eyes began to bruise but she kept on coddling the poor baby in weak arms.

Any squeak or thud around or on the ship startled her aggressively.She noticed without Mando around, thumping and dragging his heavy suit, the ship was uncomfortably quiet. A place like Coruscant would’ve seen his…. Junk by now. At times she considered leaving the ship to find something that would be tolerable to their stomachs or even having the luxury of new clothes to have a variety instead of rotating between the three she bought on board months ago.

“Mando wouldn’t be happy if we left…” she whispered to the child, who was finally dozing off from his tantrum. The city was still buzzing with transports and the secret night life but she knew night had fallen from the echoing support of the insects. The night was particularly cooler since she could feel it through her bare toes so she dug around for an extra blanket for the two of them.

Thankfully he ate his mush and his large eyes began to close. She had no track of time but assumed that the sun just set, mentally preparing herself for a long night. She hummed a lullaby to him, like her mother did before, her chest warm with memories and the sight before her.

“You may be a bit weird looking,” she admitted to the sleeping baby wrapping him in that blanket. “But you’re so cute at the same time…”

Before Mando came along she was one of the youngest in her tiny village. Nobody dared to reproduce because frankly, what was the point? All the women and men left to serve in rebellion groups or find refuge in galactic sovereignty except her. Her mother would beg her to leave, to find some place more suitable for her free spirit and intelligence, but she refused time and time again. She had to take care of the elders! She had to defend her place! Her mother was weakening and then that was it, the single attachment to her mundane life.

Then he arrived. His voice, smooth with a crisp baritone confidence. He carried himself well, shoulders back and head high, and she swore she saw salvation in his immaculate chrome beskar. She heard of him and his people in legends at night, her blood pumping with excitement. A hero among heroes, now seeking refuge in _her_ village. He observed the way she cared for the child as if he was her own, actions sweet with love and maternal touch. Once he offered a portion of his earnings and his accommodations in exchange for child care and medical support, she didn’t hesitate to pack a bag. She sat on her bed, smiling through watery eyes, remembering how her mother praised her for finally moving on. She wondered if she didn’t go what would’ve become of her. 

Was the Mandalorian her destiny or was she simply his bird, wings clipped, singing through the iron cages?

It was no use to think this way. She agreed to this. She swirled the mush on her plate, her hunger twisting her belly. She was starving beyond belief but her worry ate her instead. _He’s a professional, this is what he does._

She decided to simply take a shower and lay in the darkness until dawn came around or if the child beckoned for her. She slipped into the small ‘fresher, letting the water warm up on her fingertips. She looked at herself in the fogging mirror, grimacing at her dull complexion. She mumbled to herself that she should’ve ignored Mando and made some kind of sleeping sedative so she could finally get some rest too. 

She rested the back of her head on the shower’s wall, closing her eyes to soak up the blissfully warm water. No matter how much the harsh bullets would beat on her skin her mind couldn’t shake him away. She didn’t want to be mad at him anymore, she just wanted him back.

_No. Stop that._

Experiencing longing for a man that she didn’t even know what he looked like? Now that was new. She couldn’t lie to herself or anyone that she never thought about what he looked like. How was his hair? Was it coiling in complex texture or thin to run fingers through? His eyes, were they large or aged? Was his face scarred, did he hold a honey complexion or translucent, the light behind his visor bringing out intricate veins? It made her belly stir, wondering his smell, his taste, how his voice must be so thick and syrupy without that vocoder--

The floor of the _Razor Crest_ shook from a heavy force. She immediately turned off the water, her breath shaking from the sudden noise. She gasped then covered her mouth, trying to remember if she locked the child’s door or not. Grunting was now in the cockpit, along with growls and occasional dragging. She quickly dried herself off, slipping on her sleeping fit, and waited at the door. Her heart was on her tongue, pulsating on her teeth, eyes pooling.

Mando grunted her name.

“Mando!” she gasped, still afraid to open the door. She waited until the cockpit was quiet, only with his heavy breathing. She gulped and called for him again, this time heavy footsteps going towards the back of the ship. She ran to the other side of the wall and pressed a wet ear. She covered her mouth again so she could hear better, praying to any Maker that he was okay.

A man’s voice, devilish and slick, cursed the bounty hunter, promising deaths beyond what he could ever imagine. Mando did not say anything, she listened at the familiar coding of the carbonite storage opening up. The hissing of the carbonite, a scream, and back to silence. She didn’t hear Mando walking towards the door to take two soft knocks. He whispered her name to ensure it was him.

“It’s okay to come out,” he leaned in. “if you’re decent…” _If you’re decent? You’re an imbecile._

Her hands were shaking at the door, slowly pulling it open. He had his back to her, shoulders tense. 

“Are you okay?” she looked around, the ship’s darkness much more ominous. “How’s the kid?”

“He’s still sleeping. It’s safe to come out.”

She hesitated but he stood at the door for good insurance. She slipped next to him, laying a hot hand on his back, gripping her loose shirt. She looked up but saw nothing, so she kept a hand on him. His spine flexed into it, dying to feel her skin. 

“What happened? Where have you _been?_ ” she walked towards her cot, her knees knocking against each other. He stood in the same place, watching as the ‘fresher’s light glowed on the back of her bare legs.

“Gathering this bounty.” he said matter-of-factly. 

She turned around, ears and cheeks red. She slammed her clothes on the floor, surprising Mando in her sudden aggression. 

“No _shit_ Mando, but two weeks? Seriously? Locked on this ship with a hungry child and in darkness?” she yelled, standing chest to chest to him. 

He didn’t falter to her demeanor. “Stop yelling, you’re going to wake him up--”

“Listen to me now Mandalorian,” she sneered at his title. Anger boiled his blood at her defiance. “I agreed to go along with you on the conditions that I would help with the kid and any medical needs, I didn’t agree to be--”

“Is that not what you’re doing?” he hissed. “What more do you want?”

“I don’t want to be left in the dark like some _kriffing_ abandoned pet! You left me here without anything and not only that, but you left without taking responsibility for your actions and--”

Mando did not like being lectured. “A-And what? What, because I didn’t apologize? Because you’re so insistent on treating me like that child? I don’t need you meddling in my affairs, I don’t need you to do _anything else_ but take care of the kid and patch my wounds. Let it go.”

“Let _me_ go, then.” 

Tears spilled from her eyes finally, the bags under her eyes puffy. His stomach was heavy and his breathing was ragged, trying to search her emotions.

“You heard me. Let me go. I’m done. If I annoy you so much. You treat me like dust, you leave me out. I don’t even know you. I don’t want to work for a man I don’t know. For that, I stay here, find some grimy cantina and let myself wallow in the trenches.”

Her words were now heavy and full of sobs. It broke his ribs that held back the swelling of his agony, pulling out his hidden inhibitions. They were both weak and raw, confused in their arising conflict. Her body shook with such tremors it was hard to stay still. She never felt anger like this before, but it wasn’t the usual boiling scarlet that would feast on your soul. It was somber, it was manifesting from months of an unknown sadness. A sadness of feeling misplaced and misused, under appreciated. And Mando knew it was all his fault.

He stood in front of her cot, halting her hurried packing with his foot. She shot up an angry glare, gripping her sweatshirt.

“Stop.” he rasped. “Please, stop.”

The contrast of emotions rocked her. Her mind suddenly came to a somber realization.

“I don’t know who you are,” her voice small. “I stay up and I worry about you. I see you and I feel happy to be around you. You come back from these bounties and I am proud of you. Yet I don’t know you. Why is that?”

He wanted to scream to the galaxy. “Why what?” _Snap out of it._

“Why don’t you want me to know you? Do you not care about me?”

Where was this coming from? He didn’t know how to respond, watching the tears come out in heavy flows, her lips plump and wet. Her wet hair stuck to her face, heaving and shaking, her courage gathering.

“Am I a liability? Do I not hold some kind of care in your heart? Can you answer me, Mando, please?” her whispers manifested to begging. “Do you care about me?”

“Do I care?” he echoed her sadness, hearing his ribs break. He can’t let it seep out.

She reached a hand towards his helmet, letting the palms settle on the grooves. His hand instinctively reached up, grasping her palms, but she held her stance. He hated how close she was, breathing heavily behind his mask, her face raw. He gave a weak squeeze but she shook her head. He could crawl into the darkest slit of the ship and live there, anything other than to face what he’s been hiding.

“Who are you, Mandalorian?” she rubbed her thumbs on the beskar, smooth and cold.

“What do you want from me?” he asked her again, his voice heavy. He lowered his hands and contemplated resting them on her hips. So he did. He thought to rub the pads of his thumbs on the bones. And so he did. 

“Don’t make me ask again…” she begged, leaning her hiccuping forehead onto the bottom of his helmet.

“I’m sorry,” he began, earning a weak groan from her. He almost whined from the overwhelming unease. “I don’t mean to leave you here. With the child. I-I don’t mean to make you feel this way, I d-don’t mean for any of this.”

She was caught off guard from his stuttering demeanor. He didn’t do this often, a seemingly foreign body entering his mind.

“You’re very important to me. It’s… scary...”

She looked up, his hidden gaze digging into hers. He wanted to continue but the fear dug itself back into his head. She bit her cheek, taking a free hand to wipe away her tears. Instead Mando rose from her hips, taking a slow thumb on the apple of her cheek. The tears soaked through the material but it wasn’t enough. His armour was coming off, whether he was ready or not. He needed to feel her skin, a human connection. He slipped off his glove, bringing it back to her face. She melted into his calloused texture, hot and large, closing her eyes. Exhaustion covered her body, begging to lie down. Instead she pushed it back to relish in his heat, mouth peeled open to let out a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He owed her for this. Some kind of reassurance, something for her to take into her heart like a trinket. She felt like home should feel.

“My name is Din. Din Djarin.”

She let more tears pool into his palm, her tongue heavy with his name. It was drowning her, the thrill of his affection, the thrill of a piece of his identity.

“Din. Din. Din.” her voice was a disembodied spirit, settling into senses.

The ship rocked with the evening’s winds, metal clinking like a wind chime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been in a particularly sad mood lately, what with the state of the world and all. I hope this made sense for one and for two, kind of set up the somber mood haha. Hope y'all enjoyed it, thank you for any support!


	3. Sweet Wonderful You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of death, coping with death. There isn't anything in a graphic sense but still deals with the topic, please proceed carefully if this is a trigger for you!

If you were to ask any of the two what had transpired  _ actually  _ transpired, Din would have shot your feet with his blaster to make you dance in mockery. In retrospect he was the fool dancing, wishing that it was aimed at his head instead. He was lost, absolutely lost, his feet clipped in place. She exhausted herself so badly that she fell asleep, face still damp and blushed, leaving him to linger on. His hand ached for her skin, so supple and so soft. She was softer than he could ever imagine, more delicate than silk and twice as frail. He still didn’t know why he felt this way, so desperate and hungry, but he knew the answer was in her shaking bones, clawing out, like the butterflies that lie in his stomach every night.

His bones ached too, from the weeks of napping on that stiff chair. It was finally taking a toll on him but he was afraid to close his eyes and snap them back open, making sure reality was still a tangible thing and what had happened, well, actually happened.

He checked up on the child, who was stuffed in various blankets, small snores escaping his nostrils. He took his bare hand and placed it softly on his head, feeling the wiry white hairs, letting a thumb rub in between his large eyes. He let out a sigh after closing the door, listening to all the noises on the ship. Rainfall patterned against the worn metal, drumming gently, the ship’s skeleton shaking from the picked up winds. His body began to cool down a bit so he noticed the changed atmosphere so he looked for spare blankets or crushable heat packets to stuff in between the three of them.

He was feeling suffocated. Nauseous. 

He quickly dashed back to her cot, relieved she was sound asleep. He noticed that she took a spare pillow to place in between her body and wall, arms wrapped around it tightly. Her breaths were smooth and steady, unlike earlier, where her lungs struggled to differentiate between sobs and controlled breathing.

He slipped back to the cockpit and instead sat in her usual seat, letting the darkness envelope him. He slipped off his helmet, taking a gulp of breath, his vision adjusting to the dark. He watched the raindrops race down the windshield, the backlights of Coruscant illuminating the water with swirls of hazy neon and pure pearl white. 

He noticed his forehead was damp, hair curled up around the temples, so he took a hand and smoothed it back as best as he could. He rubbed his jaw, his stubble burning his pads, settling his helmet on his thighs.

_ Din. _

_ Din. _

_ Din. _

What a sweet ring! Like the Maker was calling him to the skies, pulling his soul with such a strong gravitational pull. He watched her tongue settle on the roof of her mouth, a slow pull of her bottom lip, popping his name in bubbles of purity. The only thing that could come close would be to his mother, pulling memories of pure love. That’s what it felt like. Home, something familiar, like the smell of his mother’s hair or his father’s laughter. A haunting sound that they shared in their misery and vulnerability.

He was caught in a spiderweb that he couldn’t get out of.

He made her promise to only say it between the two of them. Their dirty secret, their own language, just to be heard between them, the child and these beat up metal walls. He watched it settle in her throat, afraid to taste it again, until he gathered loose strands of her hair from the back of her head.

“Can you say it again?” he pleaded. “Just one more time.”

He felt pathetic. Absolutely submissive.

“Din.”

The last one tasted like heartache, like a cry one would scream in the greatest valleys and canyons. It was his token, she got a piece of him, now he had one too. What else could he ask for? 

Well, Din was a Mandalorian firstly but most of all, he was man. He was human. Greed was part of the human condition.

He urged her to sleep, that tomorrow they will talk about it. She was still sick with worry, checking his body for any wet spots of blood, asking to do a status report on his vitals. His toes curled at her care. She sat down at the edge of her bed, taking his bare hand, running a palm over his sore knuckles. She noticed that his hands were pristine and smooth with the exception of calloused palm skin and bruised knuckles.  _ That bounty must’ve been horrid. _

“Are you serious?” he asked, watching her watery eyes flutter. “About leaving I mean.”

She let it sit for a min. “You hurt my feelings, Mando.’

“Din.” he corrected. He was being greedy again. “I didn’t mean to. I… still need you in my motley crew.”

She smiled weakly at his joke. She let his hand drop, watching it curl against his beskar. 

“I-I’ll make it up to you. Tomorrow. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

She nodded, lingering her eyes on his helmet. He felt as if her gaze would melt the material and bare his desperate bloodshot eyes. She searched for an answer, something to tangle the blossoming  _ love  _ she had for him. She simply gathered her blanket and settled on the stiff pillow, whispering a goodnight. 

“Please try and sleep tonight, Din.”

He rose up from the seat, dragging his suddenly heavy towards his quarters. It was slightly larger than hers, tucked in the back, with its own ‘fresher and larger bed. It was painfully tidy, courtesy of the militaristic childhood he adopted. He settled his helmet on the floor, noticing that his sheets held no wrinkles. Pieces of him, his beskar, shedded off his aching body, carefully laid out before him. He didn’t want to remove his thermal clothing or even bathe, just wanted to sulk in the stiffness of his mattress.

The rain was heavier, rapid yet steady. His joints began to ache so with a shaky groan he rose, taking himself to finally shower. Peeling off his clothes he noticed new bruises on his honey skin, welting sick yellow and purple. He was thankful for the rain, signifying that they would have enough bathing water to last for a while. It took a minute for the heat to kick in and his muscles relaxed under its enveloped warmth. He watched the dirt and sweat swirl down the drain with hazy eyes, melting under the heat in his scalp.

He reflected on his bounty, attaching stories to his bruises. The one on his thigh came from the  Devaronian ’s harsh kick, as well as the one on his right hip, while the one on his sternum was from a mighty steel club he carried. Barbaric, he thought at the time, but nonetheless thankful it didn’t create a dent on his armour. It created quite a commotion on the streets, gatherings of heathens to watch a famed bounty hunter take a quite popular opponent. He looked down at his bruised knuckles, the evidence that he may have let his rage slip and began to pummel his face in. The client wouldn’t care either way, Din was sure that he was delivering the man to his death. No one said he couldn’t find other outlets than from alcohol or the arms of pleasure houses.

He closed his eyes and let the water fall on his face, lips pursed still in thought. His stomach swam still, amazed at the depravity of touch that still lingered on. Din tried to press it away but it begged for attention. How would her touch feel besides on his bare hands? Did she hold herself to the same gentleness if he were to remove his helmet? What about his face, would she find him handsome? She was a sweet thing, he thought, such a sweet thing.

His tongue is heavy in mouth, saliva coating it in layers. His whole body vibrated, begging his mind to continue. His stomach curled. Would it react the same way if she were to press her lips there? Her lips were so pretty, so delicate, the way she would speak and laugh and cry and yell. How would her vocal chords feel on his skin? Would they etch themselves on his epidermis? 

His collarbones curled and protruded, gathering water. His lip parted, letting the water drip in between, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He noticed the contrast of skin tone between her clothes but her skin resembled his honey tone. He mapped out every kiss in his memory, making sure to stop to inhale her scent, mixed with their passion, letting his curl on each goosebump. Would he let her kiss each scar she carried, spilling his secrets into them? What would she say? How would his name taste on her mouth, once he moved to the sweetest spot, the core of her earth, the central sweetbeam--

_ Stop it. _

He hesitated when his opened palm laid on his pelvic bone, fingertips stretching. He felt sick, how he made her cry, how he can be so selfish into thinking about himself! His brain was sparking, screaming at him, forcing him to indulge just this one time. He couldn’t, not to his sweet thing, his sweet wonderful woman, who didn’t know it yet. How clueless she was, unknown to the volcano in his body, spilling hot lava into his heart. Sweet, sweet woman, made of all the cosmos and galaxies and stardust, unknown to the fact that people and beings of all kinds stop on the market streets to simply bask in her supernova. Sweet woman, how much she stirred the Mandalorian to death, his hot jealousy spitting on his beskar when men would challenge their affection for her. Sweet, sweet thing, who must taste like nirvana, who has no idea what she is doing to Din Djarin, a man who never dreamt of a possibility like her, who never knew what he was missing was simply feet away, sleeping in her sorrow. 

His hips jerked forward and he choked back a groan.

He is human, after all.

* * *

His body naturally stirred awake, his crooked spine aching from his position. He hadn’t slept like that in such a long time his body wasn’t used to being so still for so long. Sunlight crept into his room from the cracks of the door, its marigold beam making him slightly squint. He sat up, sighed, then crossing his legs to meditate. He let his mind sink into the base of his spine, reciting prayers in Mando’a.

After some moments he heard soft giggles in the cockpit, one of his eyes peeling open. He was surprised she woke up in a good mood, or at least pretending to be. Despite the circumstance it still was a sound that one would be happy to relish in the early mornings.

“Should we wake him up? We have a busy day, sweet boy,” she whispered outside his door as the child squealed excitedly. “Hmm, I think we should…”

She knew not to open his door but he was still cautious, grabbing his helmet with light speed. He adjusted himself awkwardly on the bed and pretended to continue to meditate.

“Din! We’re waiting for you!” she called outside the door, still giggling.

He exaggerated his cough. “You can come in.”

“I don’t know the code!”

_ Fuck, I completely forgot about that. _

The door pulled open, revealing the child first. He smiled, his little teeth bearing, reaching his hands out for him. Din grabbed him as she flashed a polite smirk, stretching her arms upward.

“Looks like I won’t have to harass you for sleep, Din, I didn’t hear you at all last night!” She walked towards him, smoothing the child’s hair with her finger. “How did you sleep?”

She eyed his thermal clothing and how snug it fit his lean form, contrasting against his helmet. She couldn’t read his face but his body spoke for him, tense from the proximity and sweetness of her voice. He only grunted a response, taking a step back. She wanted to enter the room but hesitated as if there was a wall between them. It felt too personal and intrusive but he insisted by twitching his head.

“What is this I hear about having a busy day?” he inquired, a playful tone to his question. She sat on the bed and bounced the baby on her knee.

“Well, I was thinking about your proposal last night…” she began, stopping to gauge his reaction. He continued to simply stare, leaning against the ‘fresher’s door. “I would like to go shopping for some things. I think we need real food, clothing, supplies.”

He smirked at her sudden professionalism. “You want to go shopping, hmm?”

“I would  _ like  _ to!”

“We do have to go to Nevarro soon…” he pondered. Underneath he was smiling like wild, enjoying her blush and squirming demeanor.

“It’ll only be for the morning, I swear! The bounty isn’t due until tonight. I don’t want to eat mush anymore!”

“Oh, so  _ my _ food is mush?” she let out a throaty laugh.

“Not even the child would eat it and you know this kid would eat anything!” she exclaimed, his ear twitching at her volume. “Come on, Din, I think it’ll be a good break for all of us, hmm?”

He turned into the ‘fresher, his hands underneath his helmet. “I’ll be ready in a few min.”

* * *

Din’s skin was absolutely prickled with irritation. He was in his personal hell; each corner was surrounded by droids. Droids who ran the market stands, droids who negotiated parts, droids who spun rich exotic meat on their own devices. He was absolutely, without a doubt, stiff with tension. 

She had no idea he was behind her cursing and hand on blaster. She raised a vegetable to her nose, inhaling the sweet earth scent, her mouth watering. She thought of all the dishes she could make just with these vegetables alone, finally grateful for some comfort food. The last decent meal she had was on Hosnian Prime, a mixture of different meats and a root mash. Din refused to even smell it, afraid of the mystery meats, letting her to happily chew on his Bantha portions. She turned her head to check on the child, who was asleep and hidden in a makeshift wrap. 

“How long are we going to be on Nevarro?” she asked Din, who was too busy scanning the area.

“Not for long.” he curtly answered. She frowned, wrapping her arm around his. He was too invested to notice the proximity.

“I would like to make a meal for all of us with what I got, I would need a kitchen--”

“What’s wrong with the food packets I have?”

She rolled her eyes. “I already told you, I can’t stand to eat that mush. I’m buying enough ingredients for a few days until we can get to another planet where I’m not eating cantina nuts for dinner.”

He only nodded, her rant going through one ear and out the other. She looked in the same direction as he did, finally realizing why he was acting so defensive.

“These droids aren’t going to shoot you over haggling prices over vegetables, Mando.” she reassured. He looked down, her face riddled in worry, noticing her switch in name and tone.

“I don’t trust droids.” he hissed, pulling her closer when one stomped next to her.

“They’re simply programmed to help out in the market. Would it be helpful for me to hurry up my shopping?”

He stopped in the middle, gathering of dust traveling up. He leaned into her, his nerves racing in his blood. Between her and the droids he didn’t know what would make him snap first.

“Just… finish what you have to do.” he whispered, watching her nod slowly. She gripped the groove of his arm, finding exposed flesh. She squeezed it and adjusted the child.

It was weird shopping with a Mandalorian. A place like the Galactic City wasn’t unaware of its inhabitants, ranging from pickpockets to Jedi masters. There was always an edge that the crowd would avoid that came from the famous and unique. The crowd would part between the two of them, looking at her with curious eyes. She wondered what they thought of her, did she consider her his bounty? Comforter? That he was her bodyguard? Regardless she felt a tinge of pride.

_ A girl could get used to this…  _

She saw a tarp laid out next to her with intricate cloths, leather belts and shoes, and beading. She gawked at the unique colors of turquoise, chartreuse, lapis and more, crouching to touch the beading. The smooth plastic glided on her fingertips, intertwined with gold spun string, threaded together to create a beaded portrait of a sunset. 

Oddly enough, it looked familiar.

Her eyes locked on a corresponding dress. The sleeveless dress held the same intricacy, wrapped in lapis and lilac, a light brown belt cinched at the waist. She dug in her pocket for spare credits.

“I see you have your eyes on this dress, miss,” a tiny voice peeped out. 

She nodded vigorously. “It’s absolutely beautiful, I have Imperial credits if you wish for it…”

She locked eyes with the seller, immediately frozen in her stance. Her eyes were familiar, waves of green, but the wrinkles around them tugged the corners to a frown. Her mouth was agape, skin sunburnt and red, before gasping.

The seller whispered her name, tears pooling in her eyes. She immediately knew who it was, a friend of her mother’s from her home village, Selia. Din looked at her, who was sobbing happily and on her knees. He looked at the woman and instantly knew who it was too, a nervous jump in his stomach.

“Selia, oh my Maker, Selia,” she repeated in her arms, holding her free hand. The woman consoled her happily, nodding away, brushing away her tears.

“Oh my girl, how I’ve missed you,” she cooed, pulling her to look at her face. “I didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye to you when you left us.”

She laughed, fixing her static hair. “I’m so sorry, Selia, I had to leave quickly. See, I’m still with the Mandalorian and the child.”

He was awake now from the commotion, his eye peeling open to look out a slit. Selia patted his bottom, looking up at Mando. He didn’t know what to do, he felt as if he was intruding. So he stood there, cool and stoic, as the woman studied him.

“You seem to be skinnier than when I last saw you!” she patted her stomach. “I’m glad you’re buying good food, it’s tiresome taking care of two beings.”

“I-I have so many things to ask of you! Why are you here, how is mother?” she sat up, hands on knees.

The woman’s expression changed. She looked down, playing with a loose strand. Her shoulders dropped, watching Selia trying to come out with a way to say it. She knew she had a slight feeling, but she needed to hear it out loud. She had to face her fear head on.

Selia looked up at Mando, still stoic, then back to her, gathering her words. “… oh my child, we tried. She was so sick when you left, she… she’s not in pain anymore. She went to her dreams, thank the Maker.”

The market was quiet. Time had stood still, rocking her numb body. She could feel her body trying to jump start, blood flowing to her face and limbs, but no response. Her heart was beating in her chest violently, begging her to move, to respond, to at least sob. But she sat there, fixated on a puddle. She couldn’t taste her heavy tongue, she couldn’t feel the tears burning her eyes. She was in absolute agony.

She knew that one day her mother would be gone. Death is an inevitable end for everyone, depending on the pace of life, a simple promise that was made when you first grasp air in your lungs. It was inevitable. It was absolute. Yet it ached her so, beyond comprehension. She knew that going with the Mandalorian would mean she wouldn’t be arriving back soon. The pit of her stomach ached greatly at the thought of her mother’s lifeless skin, once with a russet glow, fading into the earth. She remained in her mind now as a memory, an apparition that she can rely on in the long nights. Din knew the feeling all too well, the inconsolable truth that life can rip you apart at the seams and leave you gaping forever. It rubbed her heart raw and she knew that the process would destroy but at that moment she needed to  _ feel. _

“How was it, Selia?” she cracked, her face hot.

“Quick. Smooth. She thanked the Maker for you, she thanked the Maker for this Mandalorian.” she whispered back, rubbing her back. She helped her rise up, taking the dress with her. She laughed sadly, placing the material in her shaking arms.

“I laugh because your mother loved this dress. When I made it she begged me to make more, to sell it. I traveled around, settling here in Coruscant, and she was right. I want you to have it. It may not have belonged to her but she still blessed it.”

Selia looked at Mando, urging him to grab her. She only stared at her old friend, neck bobbing up and down. She shook her head, placing her forehead to her, the familiar warmth building up in her chest.

“You must leave now. Do not wallow on what was, what pain you may have felt. Your mother’s love will always be etched on your skin, in your blood. Let that let you live.”

She gripped the dress, not noticing Din practically carrying her back to the  _ Razor Crest _ .

* * *

The ride back to Nevarro was tense. Even the child felt the unsettled air, whining in his crib to be held. She ignored his fuss and stared at the data pad, glazed stare and all. She didn’t let go of the dress, the material soaked from her sweating palms. Din knew not to ask her how she was, she would open up eventually. The impact left her raw and lost, escaping through the hyperspeed.

She was all that was left. She was truly alone.

He set the autopilot towards Nevarro. He heard her stomach growl loudly, so he swiveled in his seat. He stared at her hunched body, shoulders rounded and hair loose. She looked shut down and unresponsive, the once vibrancy of her eyes clicked off into deep dark pools.

He contemplated getting up, breaking code and just holding her. Letting her body rock in his arms, howls of cries, desperate to squeeze the sadness out of her. It was reflective of his past, the need to find that stability after having your world flipped. He waited for her to initiate that switch, but the soulless corpse in front of him worried him to death.

“When we land, I’ll ask an old friend if we can stay in her hostel,” he murmured, getting up. She didn’t move or acknowledged his movement. “She has a kitchen you can use, if cooking will make you feel better.”

“What was your favorite thing about your mother?” she croaked, blinking slowly.

He jerked gently, folding his arms. “Her voice. She sounded so comforting.”

She looked up, searching for her reflection in his window. She tugged at her chapped bottom lip with her finger, leaning her head back. He noticed a glimmer of tears spilling out, trailing down to her scalp.

“Mine was her eyes. You saw them. They were so big, so lovely. She never had any hint of hatred in them. She could have hated the world, the way the universe destined for her to be sick. Even when she was sad she wouldn’t show it to me. I dream about them.”

She kept going on, about her childhood, the games she played and the people she knew. All Din was listen, arms crossed, as her body came back to life. Her old habits sprouted, like talking with her hands and going off topic, a comforting sight. Death was a funny thing. Even in the numbing field that it placed her she still found a way to gather happiness and express it. 

“Your friend was right.” Din interrupted. She cocked her head, cheeks flushed.

“About what?”

“It’s no use wallowing in the pain. You’re not holding anything in, everything you’ve told me was good.” 

“All my mother was… was good.”

She rose up from her seat, wrapping her body in her arms. She rocked her body side by side, gaze on the floor, leaning her head closer. Her self comfort conflicted him, watching her dig her nails into her bare skin. For once Din let his guard down, shuffling closer, until her forehead landed on his chest plate. Her breath was shaky, digging her head into his beskar, trying to squeeze her shaking frame into the cracks of his design. He rested his hands on her hips, gathering the strength to travel up her back, fingers spread out to feel every inch, until he reached her shoulder blades. She uncrossed hers and mimicked the same movement, sighing into the embrace. 

One of his hands petted her hair, intertwining his fingers through her hair. He massaged her scalp, eyes closed and lips shushing her whimpers. It finally felt right, to expose himself this way. He spoke to her in Mando’a, promising her she would be okay, that he was not far, that his arms were home. She was unaware but still basked in the pale lights of the ship.

* * *

Din decided to settle on Nevarro for a few days for her sake. It was good for their souls to take a breath and settle somewhere that seemed normal. She adjusted to it like the cracks in the wall, her mannerisms and personality slowly coming back. Of course he would hear small sniffles in the middle of the night but he let her ride it out. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to comfort her, if he could he would dig into her heart and sip every bitter pool that rested in her. She had to ride it out for her own path to healing. 

She was content taking care of the child, he was the perfect distraction. He made sure to continuously acknowledge her role and even with her eye rolls she would thank him back. She thought how funny that tragedy brings people together, especially if it’s a similar outcome to that person. If calling him by his birth name wasn’t enough he would pepper in small touches and rubs, some days even teaching her the ways of his people. Although she could never bear to use a blaster or knife he still taught her, sweet and stern, at least to build up her confidence.

The sun was setting on the desert planet, the coolness of the evening dancing into the opened windows. He leaned out one of them, basking in the golden glow, the child behind him teething on a constructed toy. 

“Din, look!” she called out. He turned around and widened his eyes. 

The dress hugged her body as if it was constructed just for her. Her arms were crossed shyly, settling on her belted belly. The cool lapis color contrasted with her warm skin, layers of the thin chiffon material pooling at her ankles. The lilac bleed at the bottom, like licking flames, showing off bits of her supple thighs and legs. She played with her belt a bit, her ears growing hot, watching him just study her.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice small. 

“It is nice.” he managed to croak out, clearing his throat. He nearly buckled when she turned around to show her bare back, matching bead work resembling raindrops. It was a delicate piece of art, both the dress and her, that anyone would be grateful to bask in. 

“I don’t know what occasion I would wear this but I’m glad Selia gave it to me,” she smoothed the material in front of her. 

Gravity pulled his body forward, sliding towards her. Her body dwarfed his and she felt incredibly insecure and small, her back still towards him. His shaking hand reached out to touch the beading, letting his clothed finger skip along the plastic. He noticed her neck prickle up from the attention, his stomach flipping. It was intoxicating, purely manipulative, that she would look this beautiful. She felt it too, the distance was aching her, so she stepped back and landed on his chest. His breath hitched when she grabbed his hand, wrapping it around her waist.

“Do I feel as nice?” her whisper was so quiet that it was barely noticeable. 

He was trained for intense situations but nothing like the pure carnal ache he felt at that moment. She took off his gloves, feeling boldness run through her. He pulled her closer, pressing his palms on her belly, then flattening his palms to trail up her arms. She dipped her head back, noticing the division of helmet and flesh from her angle, allowing him to just knead and press against her. He had to convince himself she was real, this was real, that he wouldn’t wake up drenched in sweat and sensuality. 

“You don’t know what you do to me.” his vocoder couldn’t hide the longing in his voice. She merely closed her eyes, allowing him to continue. “You absolutely haunt me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” 

“It’s terrifying.”

“Do you care for me the way I do?”

He squeezed her shoulders. “You have no idea… I-I would do anything, I would k-kill a hundred men for you, I don’t deserve you.”

His stuttering demeanor was weakening him. She peered into him, looking past him, settling her hands behind her. She turned around, closing her eyes as she kissed his helmet, his body shivering for more.

“I wish I could see you,” she laid another kiss. “Sometimes I look at you and I try to piece what you look like. Maybe I’m giving my hopes up…”

“I-I can’t show you, it’s not The Way…”

She shushed him by intertwining her hands with his. “I know, I wouldn’t ask that of you, Din… I wish I could put a face to what I care for...”

“I can give more than my face.”

She hummed at his suggestion, pulling back. His throat swelled up in anxiety, immediately shutting down his mind. She’s pulling back because that’s not what she meant, he said too much, it’s time for him to crawl back to the darkness--

“Would you stay the night in my room?”

His brows furrowed, almost letting out an exhausted groan. He flexed his fingers, grounding himself from drowning in his own lust. Her hands danced along his shoulder plates.

“Whatever you want me to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheeeeew this one was tough to pump out. I'll be getting to the good stuff in the last chapter haha, thank you all for any support on this!


	4. Unravel

Din didn’t know where to start first.

The obvious answer was to put the child to rock in his crib and fall asleep with his toys to keep him occupied, find her body and finally commit to what plagued him all these months. But he was left alone to his devices, frozen in his spot, the sunset sinking deeper next to him. Time was slipping from him and he was afraid she would change her mind. He looked around the space, searching for a solution. Their new intimacy had a fine line, complete exposure would ensure his demise. As much as he wanted her to see, he found comfort in the fact that he could hide his vulnerability at least a bit. He picked up a cloth from the counter, examining its thickness. Deeming it perfect he placed the child in its crib, setting it to rock with a few pressed buttons on his vambrace. 

The hostel’s room was quiet except for the lower floor having a small buzz of commotion from the cantina. They were to play music, as they did every weekend, so he was sure to set the child to sleep before then. 

The nerves built up with every step he took towards her door. He removed his blaster and other weapons, placing it on the kitchen’s island, watching his chest rise rapidly. It wasn’t that he was anxious, as he had done this many times, but it was the pure childish anticipation that made his heart bang in his bones.. Every other time was quick and a blur, like whiplash, releasing any tension. However, this time it had to be methodical, evenly calculated, down to the last lick of flame and crack of the whip. It had to count.

He reached her door, softly knocking it. She opened it, painfully slow, now in a slip gown. He gulped beneath the helmet, the heat receptors radiating off her body. He switched it off to get a better idea of the exposed skin, her eyes wild with curiosity. Her chest plate was smooth, splashed with the occasional shy flush, the peach color of the material complimenting her frame. Watching her stare, he felt his skin jump, his soul scraping at his marrow, begging him to release it from its beskar jail and indulge.

“Do you have sleeping clothes?” she innocently whispered. He could almost groan in agony, wanting to grasp her head and grit  _ why would I need that if I’m going to fuck you like a mad man? _

“Did you want to only sleep tonight?” 

There it was. The challenger had arrived, arms in the air, boasting his confidence.

“Depends,” she mused, letting him slip in. “it all depends on how hard you’re going.”

That left an ambiguous suggestion for the Mandalorian to interpret. His hands cupped her face, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs, her eyes closing to lean into the warmth. One of them left her face to rub her arm free of goosebumps while the other one placed the thumb on her plump bottom lip, dragging it down to bounce up. She placed small kisses on his fingers, maintaining her eye contact, her core beginning to warm up. 

Din’s hand sought out her waist, its curve, then to her ribs. All of his blood rushed to his fingertips, his entire body desperate to feel the flesh beneath, but he wanted to drag this out. For hours, all night if possible, or until the end of time. Whichever came first. He gently kneaded upwards, lips parted, taking a finger to etch the under lining of her breast. She slipped his thumb in her mouth, earning a modulated hiss, her bottom teeth grazing the skin and setting it on her tongue. It was heavy and tasted slightly of leather, gathering pools of saliva around it. His thumb grazed her budding nipple, her turn to suck in air, then placing her entire breast in the space between his thumb and pointer finger.

He watched as the thin strap fell off her shoulder, her mouth suckling on his thumb, eager to continue. He watched her eyes dart upwards, seeking out permission behind tinted visors. She slipped his thumb out, taking his other hand to cup her other breast. A string of spit led out her mouth, igniting a dream he once had where she was begging underneath him for more. That bought him to tug upward, then in circles, watching the other strap fall off her shoulder. She let out a satisfied sigh, relishing in the attention.

Her hand reached out towards his hip, bringing him closer, then dancing her fingers towards his groin. He almost pulled back, afraid to let her seek him out, but was met with a palm to his hardening cock. She was surprised by his girth, letting it travel up and down her palm. He panted and pulled his hands back from her chest, settling on her hips to ground himself. She leaned in where his ear should be, dragging her lips on his beskar.

“I want to kiss you… please…” she trailed off, applying slight pressure to his growing erection.

“Close your eyes.” he whispered, watching her listen quickly. She squeezed them shut yet he placed his hand over it. “I have to put a cloth on you, I’m sorry. Tell me if it’s too tight for you.”

He hesitated to pull his hand back, afraid she would betray him and look at his face. He shook the feeling away, his sweet woman could never do such a thing. He takes the cloth and wrapped it around her eyes, carefully tying tight enough to not have it slipped.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” he joked, placing his fingers underneath the hatch of the helmet. She giggled, a bit shaky, wringing out her hands.

“Glad to see you still have your sense of humor!” she teased, thankful he was at least trying to make her comfortable. 

He slid his helmet off and her ears tuned into the sound. She noticed the drumming in her ears and the slight pop of his helmet, the way it would hiss from its release. He placed it gently on a night table, eyes wild, searching for any reaction. Her lips were bitten and raw, face flushed deeper with a cranberry shade. He pulled her closer, her hands trailing up to now grab his face. She smoothed his cheekbones, rubbing his stubble, then his lips. Her thumb traced the dip of his cupid’s bow, then the soft flesh of his bottom lip, his turn to leave small pecks. She smiled, standing on the balls of her feet, placing her forehead on his.

He closed the gap by placing a soft kiss on hers, sparks flying through his chest. It took everything for him to not enthrall himself in her taste, the singular most intoxication feature thus far, eyes closing to indulge further. She pulled back, whispering his name, then going back in, mouth eager and open. She licked his bottom lip, sighing deeper into the kiss, his arms encircling her to a tight embrace. She didn’t care about the tightness across her baring chest or the way his hands desperately searched for scorching skin, only the fact that his taste was finally on her. His tongue searched her mouth, groaning at her heat.

He walked her backwards towards the bed, gently pushing her down. He pulls apart and takes in gulps of air, ears ringing and tightened thermal clothing, watching the way her mouth gaped with his saliva. 

She listened as he began to painfully peel off his armour, his careful hands placing them next to the frame. His body was on fire, flames licking his thermal clothing, so he stepped closer so her frigid hands could play with the hem. He kissed her with more confidence and feverity, massaging her forearms.

“Is it heavy, the beskar?” she asked, pecking small kisses on his upper lip and nose. 

He chuckled at her curiosity. “Yeah, it hurts after a while.”

She gestured for him to sit down next to her. She felt around her, hands landing on his back to pull off his thermal shirt. He shuddered at the temperature drop but his spine warmed up from her small hands tracing up and down the base and to his hairline. She felt every scar, puffy and rigid, her chest swelling up. She placed a kiss to the back of his head, trailing down to his stiff shoulders, making sure her knuckles worked alongside his shoulder blades to his loins. 

His eyes watered by the delicious intimacy that was kneaded into his skin, his head leaning back to release a tired groan. She trailed kisses now from the shell of his ear to his neck, his groan stuttering in his throat. He reached a hand back to caress her face and to grab her hand.

She frowned behind the blindfold. “I want you to feel relaxed.”

He positioned her in front of him, kissing her knuckles. He grabbed a pillow to lay her head, hair sprawled like spider legs, leaning in for another kiss. He couldn’t get enough of how her pillowed flesh felt but he ached for more, something more saturated and concocted from his proclamation.

“You do so much for me,” he murmured against her cheek, hand snaking underneath the front of her slip.“Let me take care of you.”

He placed honeyed kisses on her chin and jugular, her head tilting for more. Her spine curled at his touch, so painfully slow, pulling down the material to gather at her waist. His mouth latched to her sternum, building up anticipation, then wrapping itself around her nipple. She gasped at the sudden contact, almost blissfully unaware of his stunned reaction.

“Is this okay?” he asked, rubbing a thumb along her ribcage. She nodded and licked her lips, her chest heaving towards his mouth.

He latched back on, switching between suckling, sligh biting and licking, relishing in the new texture. Her body was a horizon of sorts, introducing to him what he had missed out on, wishing he would have explored sooner. She moaned quietly, almost to herself, when he switched breasts, letting his hums vibrate her ribcage.

He pulled down the slip dress, almost whined at her naked figure, more ethereal than he could ever dream of. He almost wanted to pull back, he felt so selfish that she was allowing for this to happen. It was a blessing, he decided, he wanted her to have the apex of his affection. Her knees locked at the sudden breeze, applying pressure to her already aching clit.

He sat up on his knees, running his hands alongside her thighs. He examined what was before him. Her body glowed from the now night sky, an indigo glow outlined with the moon’s beam. Her hands laid next her head, fingers curling in anticipation, neck red with embarrassment.

“I feel like you’re staring at me.” she whined but with a smile. 

He laid his lips back on her sternum, trailing to her flexing stomach, stopping at her belly button.

_ You didn’t wear panties on purpose, mesh’la, you were confident that this would happen. What would happen if this didn’t happen? _

He was feeling feral, its claws were tearing his burning muscles, but he repressed it back. His thumbs rubbed her hips, finding the right words. 

_ Remember to drag it out, remember to drag it out, remember to drag it out. _

“Can I taste you?” he mewled, resting his forehead against her stomach. “I’ve always wondered what you tasted like, please…”

She gaped at his slipped desire, her entire body vibrating for his touch.

“Din,” she moaned, her knees rubbing together.

She pushed her palm down on his scalp, his signal to go. He peeled her knees apart, her throat letting out a shaking sigh from the contrast of her warm wetness and his breath. He was amazed at how wet she was already, all for him to bask. He dragged his lips across the inside of her thigh, eyeing her reaction, taking the tip of his tongue to slide from her slit to her clit. 

His name came out in jagged and stretched out syllables as he lapped up her taste, making sure to suck on her clit while she gathered her fingers to pull his waves. No other taste could compare to what was on his tongue and lips. His erection was painful but he pressed a deep palm to his erection to repress his desire.

“ _ Mesh’la _ you taste so good, how is this possible,” he whispered on her pelvis. 

She couldn’t respond, her mind was melting inside her cranium, leaking out her ears. He slid his hands underneath her bottom to pull her closer, his entire bottom half of his face deep into her womanhood. His nose would occasionally rub against her sensitive clit, earning a gasp every time it brushed by. His hands gripped her thighs from shaking, unaware that it wasn’t from an oncoming orgasm, merely from her nerves. 

She wished she knew what he looked like while he was eating her out. Was he hyper focused, was he in heavenly bliss? Truth be told he was all of the above, his eyes closed to allow himself to enjoy himself. With every grip of his hair he would suckle on her clit, making sure to moan from the pit of his belly to provide more waves of pleasure to her mind. 

He was going so slow she didn’t think her orgasm would come to roost. Instead of the usual quick intensity her body was used to, it came in wavelengths, traveling up fast and spreading like wildfire across her damp skin. He could feel it too on the tip of his tongue so he would let go, back to her sweet core, making sure to save some for later.

“Din oh my--” she sputtered out, her climax coming back to her suddenly with the addition of his finger at her entrance. He coated them, licking his lips clean. He slowly pushed one finger in, feeling the swell and grooves of her. 

“Does this feel good?” He pumped his finger in and out, curling at the hilt, her bottom lip quivering.

“What a question…” she breathed, earning a small chuckle from him.

Again he studied her reaction, making sure to make mental notes that at this angle she reacted with the curl of his finger against her spot, as well as her head leaning back when he would roll her clit with his other hand. When would an opportunity like this come again?

He felt her relax a bit before slipping in another finger. She was completely at wit’s end, conflicted with the dragged on climax, waiting at the top of the hill to cry, to letting him drag it on for hours if he wanted to. His two other fingers rolled and rubbed her clit in semi circles, her body shivering with each curve on the roll and downfall. 

“Din please….” she whimpered, noticing her orgasm was going to hit hard. He sped up slightly, still dragging her clit around, lips back on her neck.

“You sound so sweet saying my name.” he groaned against a throbbing vein. 

She grabbed his hand that was on her clit and sped it up for him while he matched the speed of the one inside her. Her orgasm rolled down her spine in electric currents, lifting her hips, sputtering out loud groans. He slammed his lips on her to try and quiet her down but she squirmed under his touch, now strictly focused on her clit, letting her taste both him and herself. His fingers led her through the shocks, rolling hips begging for more, his name gnashing against her teeth.

She sat up, pulling him forward, forehead pressed against his. His fingers trailed up to his mouth, suckling on her taste, popping out, making an obscene noise. She knew what he was doing and it drove her wild to not see it happen. 

“Did you take off your pants yet?” she asked, feeling him nod no against her. She trailed down his toned chest, fingers grooming through his flexed muscles, down to the trail of hair on his belly. His breath hitched, feeling the curve of her fingernails ignite goosebumps on his skin, watching her next move.

He helped her find the waistband, watching her erect her spine and pull back her shoulders in confidence. She pulled them down and he hissed at the contrast he felt earlier between his hot skin and cool air. He was painfully hard and she made it worse, her tongue subconsciously licking her lips in anticipation. He kicked off his pants with haste.

She held his hip in place and grabbed his erection, slowly pumping him. He couldn’t help but let out a pathetic groan, finally relieved that she was touching him in the same way he would in the late nights. His jaw was slacked, completely submissive from her touch, his tip saturated with beads of his precum. She rolled her thumb over it, feeling herself soaking again, taking his precum to swirl at the head. 

“Can I taste  _ you _ ?” she mused, cocking her head to the side. He bit his cheek, brows frowning at the anticipated act.

“Gods I won’t last long…” he almost begged. That didn’t stop her from lowering her head, letting his ghosting hand lead her. Her mouth wrapped around his girth, feeling the blood pump in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks in a swift motion. He let out a guttural moan, almost too loud to his liking, watching her head bob up and down with her rolling wrist.

She kept on like this, letting her tongue drag alongside his shaft and popping out his head to imitate his action with his fingers. He didn’t want to push her head down but his body was no longer in control, looping fingers in her flowing hair. And he was right, he wouldn’t last long, sputtering out protests when her hand left his hip and joined the other to pump him.

He stuttered her name, his shaft red hot and leaking, letting ropes of cum land on his flexing stomach. He didn’t let himself finish when he pulled her close, erection lying on his belly, gnawing at her bottom lip. The beast inside him didn’t want to wait any longer, he ached to be swimming in her pools.

“Lie down.” he growled, sending shockwaves through her. She did as she was told, back on the same pillow, unknown to her he was pumping himself at the sight. Some of his cum stuck to her glowing torso, an absolutely dirty scene, finishing on her belly. Another registered memory for him. He kept slipping out moans, now louder, bobbing his Adam’s apple at the volume. 

“Do you still want this?” he asked, deepening his voice to curl at her name. “Do you still want me?”

She raised her hips at the sound of her name, so exotic to her ears. “I’ll always want you.”

Those words. He was at the tip of the edge, foot dangling in the air, ready for her push. He positioned himself at her entrance, taking her legs to wrap around his waist. He leaned in and visited his first kiss, full of longing and depravity, still pumping his erection in his hand. Surprisingly tears threatened to leak out but he repressed it, slipping his tongue back into her mouth.

“Please tell me if it hurts,  _ mesh’la _ …” he kissed her forehead, finally letting himself slip right into her. They both sucked in their breaths, amazed at the feel of their bodies connecting finally. He adjusted himself to her rising hips, waiting to see her sigh of relief. She was absolutely full of him, initially concerned at the sensation, until he pushed her knees together to press along his sides. 

He slowly dragged himself in and out, already feeling his weight teeter off the edge of the cliff, hissing at her tight body. He wanted to coax her to relax but realized that was her natural state, still standing by his original statement: he wasn’t going to last long. He planted his forearms alongside her body, breathing into her scalp, finding a speed that they both would enjoy.

Her nails began to dance along his back, deepening her pads into the dimples of his muscles, finding home in the softness of his skin. His new bruises burned from the pressure of his bodies but he ignored them, too transfixed in her scent, his hips rolling against hers. He found a groove, slow yet sensual, letting his knees plant down for better access.

She let out another moan when his hip snapped out of rhythm, filling her to the hilt. She was desperate for another connection, something to ground her misty mind.

“Din you’re so…” was all she could manage to coherently say, her clit throbbing for attention. She dug her nails into his back when he picked up speed, hips still rolling, his groans more and more often and longer. 

He was slipping in and out of sanity with her, enthralled in his own lust, his once iron mind melting with his words. He clenched his thrusts, afraid to completely let go.

“Do you know what you do to me? Do you know how  _ good  _ you feel, how tight?” he whined in her ear, holding her head in place. His graveling voice was heightened from her lack of sight, her clit now crying, wondering what possessed him to be this way.

“I can’t believe I went without it for so long, my love, you feel so g-good and you t-taste so good, I-I could have this for the rest of my life… How did I go so long w-without y-you....”

Finally he freed a hand to rub her clit, making her yelp. She threw her head back, allowing access to her ear, which he kissed and rubbed his stubble against. She sobbed into his ear, stimulated from his voice and speed. 

“Do you want to cum,  _ mesh’la _ ?” he beckoned, raising up from her ear. She couldn’t reply with words, she kept sobbing out in pleasure, her hands falling down to her side. He intertwines them both, taking a hand to his lips, kissing the gripping muscle. He was slowly spiraling and she was too, continuously gripping his cock in her warmth.

She wanted desperately to cum, letting pools of saliva gather in her gaping mouth. From her bouncing breasts, heaved breathing and honeydew lips he was falling back into his orgasm, much more powerful than the last. 

“Do you want to cum?” he asked again, grabbing her waist to hold her own for her impending release. She nodded and whispered his name, as if it was an omen, but it dripped with syrup.

“Please Din, please,” she cried, reaching out for his face. 

His spine curled as her orgasm gripped him, releasing a hand on her pulsating clit. His rolled behind her, violently snapping his hips against her, letting her name roll off his tongue. He didn’t care who heard their proclamation or the sensual slapping of skin. He would challenge anyone to not wanting to bathe in its potency. Her orgasm was much longer and dipped in warmth, cascading waterfalls of pleasure down her skin. She wanted to bask in it, with Din, letting the waters pull them in and lie at the bottom of the sea.

The sound of the cantina’s music filled the air, muffled by thick walls. She didn’t notice her hazy moans until now, her core pulsating slowly. He closed his eyes to regain his slip of mind, chest heaving from the intense atmosphere, his stomach still spazzing from the aftershock. He remained inside of her, comfortable with the warmth, watching her open and close her mouth like a beached fish. She let out a long sigh, pulling him closer. He suppressed a laugh in his chest, letting himself slip out.

“Are you okay?” he asked while she motioned him to lay his head on her chest. 

Both bodies were covered in each other’s matter but she still wrapped him in her arms in a lazy embrace. He was frozen again, retreating back to his darkness but the way her hands raked through his hair melted him into her body. Although he was larger than her, he felt small, his ribcage leaking again with his sadness. He didn’t want to sink back in but her affection was a vice grip he couldn’t wiggle out. It hit him all at once, a great whip of force that attacked his senses. He wondered if it was from the lingering lust or it was always there, tightening his grip around her body. Whatever he felt it threw him into a looping fall, a continuous venture to the depths of the earth’s core. He pushed his arms under her body and cuddled her back, one leg wrapped around his thigh and the other hitched on his hip.

They said nothing, she didn’t even peel off this blindfold, for if she did she would notice his tears slipping between the cracks of her fingertips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando crying after sex? It's more likely than you think and in my opinion, very necessary.
> 
> I'm so happy for how this piece is coming out! Many thanks to you all who read!


	5. The Thrill of Affection

Their skin was buzzing with such a peculiar electricity it was hard to pinpoint where it ended and where it began. It was like that for a few days and with each brush of skin and pressured touch, yellow sparks chipped off. There was nothing overtly sexual or sensual about it, simply a deeper plunge into what was, essentially, the new beginning. That night was an engraved reminder on their skin, like a scar from a blaster wound or a beauty mark, yet hidden for only their eyes and mouths to rediscover. Between the child, bounties and settling on what normalcy should look like between the three of them, the possibility of that remained in their minds.

Din remembered it in flashes of blinding light, like a firecracker’s pop. At times he would stare off at his datapad and see the slick of her neck in the reflection or while he was in the shower, water dripping into the grooves of his skin, he would see her glossy eyes roll back in possession. He wanted to exorcise his demons, scrub the feeling away, but he felt as if it was dishonesty to himself and to her.

For him to erase what transpired would be the ultimate betrayal.

It changed him, complete with a new skin and a new tone to his voice. His hand would linger more on her back, palm pressed down, fingers dancing on the grooves of her vertebrae. Of course he wouldn’t let a man like Greef Karga know this, so he resorted to the concealment of the darkness under tables, heavy hands on top of each other when they were back in Nevarro. Anything to shake the fever that made him boil underneath that ridiculously heavy beskar armour. 

On the  _ Razor Crest  _ it was different. Fair game. The child didn’t know better but he still enjoyed hearing the inflection of Din’s modulated voice or her exasperated giggles against his ears. He dipped his feet into the water to begin with; this was new territory and as a hunter, he had to scope his surroundings and see where his safety net would land. As he did off ship he would pass her with a gentle hand on her back and shoulders or let her head land on his, shifting his chest to face hers and allow more space. It gave him a rush, no doubt, but she knew what he was doing. Din may have been clever but she was more precocious. So the touches lingered more, the conversations blossomed past monotone one liners and jokes flowed like nothing.

It was foreign to Din, a man known for his stoic nature, but it was a form of relief from the stressors of life. She would agree also, no longer in fear to tread next to him in his shadows as if she was… nobody. It was in her affectionate nature and he was following suit, thank the Maker. 

However, this slip of domesticity was his undoing. 

Nevarro had always been a hot planet but on that day it was painfully dry, the only source of movement from the passing of bodies in and out of the ship. She decided to keep the child inside from the dust and beating sun, making sure to fan his tiny face from time to time. She stood with her fists on her hips, huffing back a loose strand of hair from her face, watching Mando stretch himself underneath the wing of the ship. 

She fanned the collar of her makeshift mustard dress, throat bobbing with thirst. Din pulled out of the wing, thankful for the shade, adjusting the curvature of his spine. He watched as she looked around her surroundings, eyes squinting from the passing earth, then landing on his, sending a small wave. He kept his gaze when she glided towards him, fingers drumming on her thighs, the pads of his burning with memory.

She leaned her head in the hole, squinting from the sun. “Need some help?”

He shook his head, stretching up to tie pieces of wiring. She scooted back to watch him work, intrigued by the mechanics of the ship. He felt tense from his small audience.

“If you want to help,” he gulped. “I need that sealer next to your foot.”

She grabbed it with a smirk, cocking a hip. “Whatever you say, Mandalorian.”

It fell silent, the searing noise of the wires the only passing noise between the two. She was accustomed to his silent demeanor, especially out in the open, as it became a comforting position to be in. She leaned against the ship, basking in the shade. 

A sharp hissing noise escaped his helmet and he jerked back, slamming his head against the hatch. She jumped up towards him, watching him clutch his hand and whispering curses underneath his breath. She looked down at his hand, glove torn from the tip of his finger to the curve of his thumb, garnet shades of blood darkening his wound. She gasped at the sight, his hand flexing with tension with hers. He jerked it back and shook off excess blood, splashing the russet soot.

“Din,” she whispered, trying to grab it again. “Get inside, you’re  _ bleeding. _ ”

He dug around his kit for a cloth, placing it around his wound, tying it in a small knot. She groaned at the blood quickly seeping the material, feeling a bit lightheaded.

“I’m fine.” he winced at her touch, avoiding her pained face.

“That looks absolutely… come in, I have extra bacta and bandages!”

She tried to pull his firm body, skipping her feet together. She furrowed her brows and took his other arm, interlacing her fingers with his uninjured ones. 

“Stop being stubborn, let’s go!”

He sat at the base of the hatch, watching the beads drip onto the floor. The child whined at the sight but he rocked the crib side by side to calm him down. She ran back with a leather pouch, face heavy and sticky, placing his hand on her lap. She peeled back the cloth, hissing at the sight, looking back at him. She scanned his helmet for any reaction but he remained still and silent. She searched the bag and took out dissolvable stitches, bacta paste and wrapping, earning a groan from him.

“I just need bacta--”

“Stop talking.”

He hissed at the pinching motion on his hand, her attempt to push the sliced skin together, and from the tightness from the pressure of the stitches. She scooped out bacta paste from the tube, the herbal and cooling smell burning her nose, then wrapping his forefinger with the wrapping. She studied her work before pocketing his glove, huffing back pieces of hair from her face.

“Those stitches will dissolve into your skin and the bacta should help speed up the healing,” she explained, getting up. “I’ll fix your glove too, if you want, until you can replace it. Just be careful, this ship is old but it isn’t worth facing any more injury, okay?”

She extended a hand to help him rise up. He chuckled at the gesture, knowing it would take at least two of her to get him up. When he rises their faces are inches apart, her breath spreading across his beskar. Her chest heaved up, shuddering out another breath, wanting to touch his helmet with her tainted fingers. She leaned forward, Din closed the gap, finding a hitch in her breathing to match her pattern. Her laid her head against his, her throat closing up. She pulled away slowly to make her way to the ‘fresher.

* * *

Din gripped the steering handles and kept his focus out the window. The child sat next to him, teething on the ball from his lever, blabbering on the metal. She sat back, wrapped in a thick blanket, rubbing her feet together in her thick wool socks. He began to switch on the cruising navigation, making sure the coordinates were set correctly. He tensed at the settling vibration of the ship, slowly gliding them in space. She watched the stars fade and spread across the galaxy, still amazed at the vast emptiness of it all. She got up from her seat, standing next to Din.

“Where are we headed?” she softly asked. 

“I need to stop on Corellia to pick up supplies from an old friend, then onto the next planet.” he turned around in his seat. She rose a brow, folding her arms.

“And the next planet is…?”

“It’s called a surprise.” he mused, his smile audible through the vocadar. She rolled her eyes playfully, bending her knees to crouch next to him.

“Oh come on, where are we going?!” 

“I told you, it’s called a surprise. It’s a newly discovered civilization, I’ve never been there before.” 

“You… are…” she trailed off, giggling hard at his insistence. Surprisingly enough he matched her excited giddiness, his laugh vibrating through her. She squinted at her reflection, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Can I at least get a clue?” she begged, digging a finger in between armour to press against his flesh.

“It’s a place…” he began, heaving himself up. “That you’ll like.”

She groaned dramatically, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. “You’re horrible, Din!”

She followed him to his bunk, sneaking up on his heels. He stopped by his bed, slowly turning his head. “What are you doing?”

She dipped her head from his side, pursing her lips up. “Nothing.”

“Why did you follow me to my room?” his voice deepening.

“It gets boring out there. Just wanted to see what you’re up to.”

“Are you bored with the kid already?”

“He can’t respond to me when I want to talk.”

He turned his body to face her. Her eyes were wide to adjust to the darkness, flicks of lashes shadowing her brow bone. It amazed her that even though she’s never seen his eyes she felt exposed, shrinking underneath his figure, as intimidated as the first day he showed up. She wondered if she would ever stop feeling this way towards the mysterious Mandalorian. It thrilled him to see her vulnerable when it was the two of them since he could let go just a bit. It felt so good to unravel just a bit in between her touch, softening the grip on his chest, and loosening his jaw to spread praises and sweet thoughts. 

He raised his injured hand to her face but she grabbed it softly, caressing the textured wrapping with her thumb. 

“Does it still hurt?” she asked, slowly massaging around the wound. He winched slightly at the pressure, nodding.

“It’s sore…” 

“Can I?” She raised his hand, placing it near her cheek.

He said nothing but made his arm limp, letting her take the lead. She turned her head slightly, meeting the gap between them, her mouth peeling open slightly. Din’s heart was skipping out of beat, pulling left and right, as she barely placed a kiss on the tip of his finger. She hesitated before placing another one down the curve of his knuckle, the base of his knuckle, finally to his palm. Her mouth was warm and heavy, like a sunbeam, his wound throbbing along with the rest of his body. She closed her eyes when his hand squeezed her cheek, letting his thumb grace the curve of her mouth.

“T-the kid…” he stuttered underneath his breath. She hummed back, looking up with the same doe eyes that left his stomach aching for more.

“It’s been days you know,” her voice dripping in saccharine bliss. “Since the last time.”

His eyes closed at the thought, careful to not make any noise.

_ Don’t let her know, don’t give her any ideas that you’ve been dying for another taste. _

“W-What are you trying to s-say?”

She let go of his hand after giving it a final kiss, placing her hands on her back. She walked towards his door then stopped, leaning against it.

“I’m going to check up on my sweet boy.”

The thread that held him together began to loosen up. He stayed in the same position, in darkness and carnal lust, his brain wracking with incomplete thoughts. She was letting it drag out, he knew it, but he was just as desperate to do something about it. Unlike from then, a memory etched even in his taste buds, he wanted it quick and steady. It  _ has  _ been days, it  _ was  _ the first thing he thought about and the last to dream. He was getting tired of lying in his bed, dawn on the horizon of their current planet, his heads feverishly wrapped around himself, hoping she wouldn’t hear him in his desperate hours. He needed it now.

At this point he couldn’t calculate his next move. It was too dangerous to make a move in broad daylight, to take her in the cockpit and too unfair to drag her into the darkness of his room. So he pondered and pondered, forgetting why he even walked into his room in the first place. 

She walked back in, knocking against the wall. Din turned around and watched the sun create a frame around her, like a holy entity, her body glowing with great golden intensity. If he could he would fall to his knees, bury himself into her thighs, carve his name into he pillowy flesh until he was morphed into it. But he remained motionless.

“He’s busy playing, in his cot,” she quipped, smiling. “If you were planning to use him as an excuse again.”

His tongue and throat was like cotton, pulling his words in its thickness. He didn’t calculate it further, he wanted to think it over, he wanted to plan out how he would consume her down to the pitch of her moans--

He sped up to her, taking her hips and slamming them against hers. She gasped at the sudden burst of energy, hands falling on his chest, the pressure of his armour against her chest. The coolness of the steel rubbed her steaming skin, Din’s hands massaging the dip of her waist to her hip, resting his head in between her head and shoulder.

“We have to be quick,” he breathed, looking out the cockpit. “We’re too exposed.”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting him grab the back of her thighs to lift her up. He grunted as he rested her back on the wall, away from the shining entrance of the door, groaning at the sudden realization.

“What? What happened?” she asked, his hands dropping her body.

“I forgot, the cloth…” he thought out loud.

Her hands gripped his helmet to face him, eyes heavy. “I’ll keep them closed, I promise.”

His hands worked across his chest to unlatch the armour, letting it drop with a loud thud. She jumped every time each piece dropped on the floor, leaving him in his thermal clothing. Her eyes trailed down to his hips, watching him palm his hardening member, mouth watering at the memory. He kept his helmet on, ignoring her plea, taking her hand to replace his on his cock.

“Quick,” he reminded her, her lip frowning. 

“I wanted to kiss you…” she whined, resting her head on his chest. He shook beneath her from her hand slipping past the band of his pants, shivering at the addicting warmth. 

“I’ll make it up to you.” he whimpered back, her hands slowly gripping him and pumping him. She let it drag against her palm, rolling his head, relishing in the temperature of their bodies rising. He snuck a hand underneath her, cupping her mound, now watching her mouth part when his fore and middle finger found her clit. Their lazy movements made their hips swirl, building up the pressure they kept from each other, moans gated from being too loud.

“Jump,” he commanded, freeing his fingers from her clit to grab her. She wrapped her legs around his strong torso, tightening her throbbing core, still holding onto his shoulders. His breaths were desperate when he pulled his pants down, pooling at his ankles, finding his alignment with her.

When he slid in, his mouth opened and dragged out a long groan. At this angle she was squirming, trying to align up with her sweet spot, letting him add himself inch by inch. She laid her forehead against his helmet, whimpering at the searing heat, before feeling an umbrella of pleasure open in the pit of her belly. He rolled his hip into her, one hand rubbing her cheek, the other gripping her thigh for dear life.

She looked up to the ceiling, tears stinging her eyes as he rocked into her, speeding up just a bit out of anxiety. Her neck throbbed and he ached to drag his teeth along with it but he promised he would make it up to her, he knew once they had just a bit more time he could latch himself to her and suckle her energy. He looked down at her bouncing breasts in her dress, making his hip jerk out of rhythm at the sight. She bit her finger to prevent herself from moaning from their bodies being so close, her clit brushing up against pressure.

The child began to cry, Din’s body automatically stopping mid thrust. She groaned against his helmet, catching her breath. She tapped his shoulders.

“Din I have to check up on him.” her thighs were shaking against his waist.

“F-Fine.” he sputtered out, catching her before her feet hit the floor. He tucked himself back into his pants, still painfully hard, brushing loose strands of hair from her face. She kissed the left side of his helmet, smiling weakly.

“This is  _ our _ life now. We gotta get used to it, yes?”

* * *

The child threw his head back in a puff, full from his meal. Din, in an aggravated huff upon arriving in Cordellia, simply says “be right back” and sped off the  _ Razor Crest.  _ She wanted to protest his fit but was too occupied with a hungry child, letting it fester. She bounced the child on her anxious knee, wondering what had set him off this time around. She wiped his mouth, putting another toy in his hand to play with.

She chewed on a protein bar while walking to her room with the baby in tow. She propped him on her pillow and pulled out her duffle bag, re folding her clothes. She split up the clothes according to color, since Din kept his end of the promise and accompanied her to various marketplaces. At the bottom of the duffle bag laid the dress from Coruscant, wrinkles folding the intricate colors together.

Without any explicit provocation tears welled up in her eyes, her grip on the dress tightening up. Her chest constricted, body shivering slightly, waves of sadness crashing in her lower rib cage. The guilt she felt was immense and heavy, pushing her mind backwards, planting seeds of regret in her. This entire time she was being selfishly dumb; she did not allow herself to  _ heal.  _ She had never felt grief like this before. She hadn’t realized how hard it crashed into her until her hearing faded back and small sobs escaped her throat, sucking back in her lungs and projecting itself out. She couldn’t figure out why she was reacting so severely to the feeling but she figured it was due process. 

It hadn’t settled in with her properly that her mother was gone. It also hadn’t settled with her that life just… goes on. Life was a continuous journey and it did not stop for no one and no thing. She struggled to keep up, not finding a split in the stone or new patch of grass to tread, just endless space to occupy her thoughts until she reached a moment like this, grounded on some planet in some galaxy, left to untangle the mess… all by herself. She had wished that her mother was there, her natural smell of water lilies and dew, to reassure her the truth: that yes, love does move along and that yes, life may leave you behind. But the beauty of it is that, at your own pace, you can find peace among the shadows, letting the light follow you out the dark and realize that the universe was an ongoing beauty not worth missing out on. Her mother was in every single swirl of a galaxy, every pointed star, and that was simply the reality of it.

_ Your mother’s love will always be etched on your skin, in your blood. Let that let you live. _

She looked at the child, who looked back with watery eyes himself. She wiped the rogue tears from her cheeks and laid her head on the mattress, extending a finger to him. He grabbed it and cooed, cocking his head to the side.

“You’re worth the universe, sweet one,” she whispered, winking. “You and that… bratty Mando of yours. That is enough to keep me going.”

After cleaning her tiny room and playing with the child, the hatch opened with a slow hiss. She listened as Din grunted from his load, dropping each item as quietly as he could. She picked up the child and walked towards the hatch, squeezing in between crates.

“Took you awhile.” he grunted in agreement, setting down a bag of medical supplies.

“The seller wanted to change the price on me at the last minute,” he explained, clearly annoyed. “I also had to replenish your supplies… I got you something, however....”

Her mouth formed an o-shape, skin prickling up. He awkwardly placed down the medical bag, searching his belt for the item. He pulled out a small velvet bag, twirling the gold strings in his fingers before plopping it down on your open palm. He looked at the floor, shifting his weight on one leg.

“I saw it and I thought you’d like it.”

She gave him a small but loving smile, eyes misty. “You didn’t have to spend your credits on me, Din…”

“It’s not that I have to, I-I… I wanted to.”

He looked up, waiting for her to open the pouch. She sat the child down on her chair, pulling the strings apart, to reveal a necklace. She gaped at the delicate and silver box chain, placing the charm in the middle of her palm. It was egg shaped, the skeleton of the charm the same color, with a piece of resin in the middle. In the melted material was a painted picture of a lily, the ink swirling with bubbles of the resin. She looked back at him with watery eyes and red cheeks.

“I… I don’t know what to say, it’s absolutely…” she gagged at the delicacy of the piece.

“The woman said lilies were used to symbolize grief and peace. I just wanted to--”

She crashed into his chest and let out a happy sob, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. His arms were tight to his side, letting himself naturally melt against her, then pulling her closer. She squeezed him gently, gripping her fingers, letting out a soft laugh.

“Din Djarin, this is the nicest gesture you could’ve ever given to me,” she whispered, kissing the chin of his helmet. “This… means a lot. I don’t even know if thank you could really suffice for this. But thank you, it’s…”

She kissed the same place again, his hands rubbing her back. He sighed, kneading his fingers into her. “Your eyes were puffy. Are you okay?”

She nodded, laying her head on his shoulder. “I was thinking about my mother. Nice things, though. How funny to get a gift like this after I was just thinking about her.”

“It wasn’t because of me?” he asked, his voice tight. 

She shook her head. “No, of course not! You did seem pretty upset before you left, are you okay?”

He fell silent, thinking of ways to express how he felt. It was getting slightly overwhelming, the constant probing of emotions, but it was more of the exposing aspect for him. He rested his hands on her hips, coughing.

“I… I don’t know how to say it.”

Her stomach dropped nervously. “Just say how you feel, is all. However you mean, whatever you mean.”

She pulled back from him, picking up the child as a coping object, watching his shoulders tense up. “I… I mean… I feel…”

Din got frustrated and walked away, leaving her to trail behind him. “Din? Din? Din! Come on, come talk!”

He ignored her, finding something to occupy himself. The tide was back, the darkness of the corner called him back, promising him the warmth of solitude. 

“Mandalorian.”

He whipped his head at her rough voice, eyes lasering into him. He groaned, forming fists. “Don’t call me that.”

“It managed to get your attention, no?” she walked up to him, face fully red. “You can tell me anything. No matter how it sounds, you’re learning. Tell me please.”

Din wanted her to simply pick out his heart and hear it. Hear how it aches when he had to leave the ship every time, for days at a time. Hear it skip when he would come back, thanking the Maker that he was in peace to see her and the child again. Hear it pulsating underneath her touch, ghosted by his beskar, hear it race when she laid her lips near his was, aching to feel the flesh on his again, hear it constrict at the thought that he was utterly and pathetically enthralled with her being.

“I don’t want to leave you behind,” he whispered, looping a finger around her pinky. “I… I feel guilty. For all of this. For leaving you and the kid behind for days at a time. I don’t like it.”

She stared at him to continue but his mind was exhausted. She stepped closer, the child now taking his tiny claws to grip her chest. 

“Did you feel this way this entire time?” she asked. 

He sighed. “It’s been there, since day one.”

“Bounty hunting is your job. You have no choice but to leave for days at a time. And there are times where it does hurt but this is who you are. You’re a Mandalorian first.”

His emotions coursed through him like a river. “There are times where I think that I should’ve just stayed on your planet for the rest of my life.”

“Now where’s the fun of that? You’re withholding from me the satisfaction of me traveling the galaxy with, arguably, the best bounty hunter and cutest, weirdest baby ever?” she giggled, kissing the child’s head. His eyes struggled to stay open so she laid him in his crib, placing a small doll for him to hold. 

His bones were aching for rest. He gave her a weak laugh, enveloping her hand with his. 

“Put the kid in his room. Please.” She gave him a suggestive smirk, picking up the drowsy child again.

* * *

These were the moments that the Mandalorian anticipated the most. His armour was tucked away for the night, helmet freeing his darting eyes and gaping mouth, latching on the throbbing vein on her neck. She sat on his thigh, slowly dragging herself on his bare skin, hands running through his hair. She massaged his scalp, letting the soft tresses card through, lips repeating soft kisses on his forehead. He rested his mouth now on her chest plate, inhaling her scent, hips guiding her movements. They were like this for a while, simply inhaling their vibrant scent, latching their mouths on the most simplest places. The room was on fire and the flames licked their bare bodies, her eyes rolling back behind the blindfold, spine aching for more. He dragged his nails down her back, feeling the grooves of her rib cage, curve of her bottom and damp skin of her thighs, tasting the silver on his tongue that laid in between her breasts.

Her clit throbbed at the slow movements so she pressed her hips down, creating more friction, ears ringing red from embarrassment. One of his hands pressed her belly, snaking up to her throat and grabbing her face, pulling her in for an open mouth kiss. He didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue in, tasting her moan, guiding her hips to grind down harder.

She moaned his name, brows frowning in pleasure, his tongue leaving her mouth to lick the side of her jaw. Din ignored his own erection, hyper focused on sensitizing her so when he had it his way she would unravel at the seams. Her hands left his hair, much to his dismay, placing them on his chest.

Her hips swirled and rolled on his thigh shamelessly, her head throwing back to escape a small whimper. He latched his mouth on one of her breasts, letting his tongue swirl her nipple with no self pleasure but simply for her. Her stomach began to constrict her orgasm but he grabbed her hips up, making her stand. She stood up, confused and frustrated, feeling her orgasm mist in the air. 

“I want to be inside you.” Din insisted, guiding her back on him. He guided her leg to rest on each side of his thighs, letting her sink inch by inch on him. She whimpered at the pressure, finally feeling the great fullness that she desired, beginning to grind her hips again.

He instead thrusted up into her, holding her in an embrace. She rested her damp forehead on his, their hair sticking together, letting their moans invade each other’s air. It was Din’s time to unravel, to sink his pent up arousal in her, dragging his mouth open to slack. He didn’t care how desperate he sounded, how pathetic his moans would mix into protested whimpering or animalistic grunts. It was a feeling he could never get over, this tightness and this warmth. It was more intoxicating than spice, than any drug on any planet. Its spores burrowed in his brain and nerves, heightened to the highest power, eyes so tightly closed he saw stars.

“Din, oh my… G….” she felt the same immense heat, her orgasm scrambling back as soon as he hit her sweet spot.

“You always do this to me,” his words were spilling out, the dam breaking. It was like this every time, he cursed himself. “You’re the sweetest, y-you’re my sweet woman…”

He sped up, making her gasp, a rush of blood curling at her toes. She was silent, gulping air, letting him continue. The stitching around their minds were being clipped, one by one, spilling its contents into the heavy air.

“What did you call me?” she asked sweetly, the sugar in her voice making him sputter.

“You-you’re my sw-sweet woman, you’re  _ mine,  _ it’s y-you,” his words scrambled together, making no sense, but it all sounded like syrup dripping from the tree bark. “I-it’s you, it’s always you, it’s always been  _ you, mesh’la… _ ”

Now his orgasm beckoned in his belly, hot and fast, releasing itself inside her. Thankfully she wasn’t far behind, choking back a moan, burying her head in between his strong shoulders. His muscles pulsated against her body, shots of pleasure rocking his bones, slowing down with each jerk of his hip. It carried on for a while, their orgasms like stray shots in the dark, ricocheting off the walls. 

While still inside of her Din laid her down then slipping out to lay next to her. She immediately links her legs with his thigh, arms reaching out in the dark to find his chest. He grabbed her hand and kissed it, making sure to place one on each digit, tasting the sweat. She takes the back of her hand to caress his face, blindfold now stuck to her eyes, mouth gasping for air.

“I… I like it when you don’t shave,” she sighed a laugh. “Feels nice.”

He hummed in thought, turning his body to face her. They were in complete pitch black and his guard was lowered just so slightly. He grabbed her blindfold but she pulled back.

“No, Din, your face!” she exclaimed in a hushed whisper. He kissed her nose, chuckling.

“It’s dark enough that you won’t be able to see.” 

She let him take it off, realizing that he was correct: she couldn’t tell the difference in sight, only the relief of cool air on hot skin. Her heart raced at the thought of a sliver of light exposing him, even a flash of a brow or the dip of his cupid’s bow. Just one indication that this will all be over, not for her but for him, his honor, his identity. It scared the hell out of her.

“How come you never ask me what I look like?” he suddenly asked, the baritone of his naked voice making her jump a bit.

She shrugged. “It was never my business.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know the face of the man you lay with?” he joked, scooting closer. He could hear her smile in the dark.

“If you wanted me to see your face, I would’ve seen it.”

“What if I want you to see it?” he tested.

She sat on the idea for a moment. “That’s not fair. Your identity comes first. The luxury of knowing what you look like will come in time. I’m content with this.”

He could cry out to the Maker for blessing him with such a supernova like her. “Maybe one day.” was the only thing he could offer in response.

She tucked her head under his chin. “I just hope to the Maker that you’re as handsome as I think you are.”

“Oh how superficial,” he rolled his eyes. “What if I’m really a Gungan?”

“Pssh, then looks like I’m stuck with a Gungan, although I’m not sure your moves are that ungraceful in comparison.”

He kissed her hair. “You’re too much for me, my sweet woman.”

* * *

The snap of hyperspace didn’t wake either her or the child up. The coordinates were set for their destination, Chandrila, letting the navigation take its course. He decided to let them rest until they landed, his stomach flipping in a child-like excitement. The  _ Razor Crest  _ shook as it began its descent and the vibration of the ship’s frame woke her up. She rose up from her bed and pressed the door open, squinting at the sunlight. She raised a lazy hand to cover her face, scowling at the sun.

He turned around and grinned, watching her sit down in the chair.

“We’re descending now, buckle in.”

She, as always, did just that. “Where are we? Or this a surprise?”

He shrugged. “Still a surprise. Wanna guess where we are?”

She looked around at her context clues. The sky was clear with robin egg blues, stretching across her vision, along with chrome skyscrapers and lush land. The cerulean sea rocked waves of sea foam to the shore, the depths of the water deepening in color. It didn’t seem familiar to her but she was grateful that it wasn’t a swamp or cold planet. That would’ve been cruel.

“Give me a hint!” she exclaimed, still thinking.

“This is the proof that I’ve seen better beaches.”

The light bulb in her mind went off and she gasped. She pulled forward to look further out the window, her feet bouncing on the floor. “Kriff Din you’re kidding! Please tell me this isn’t a sick joke! We’re in Chandrila?!”

He curved the steering handle towards lush forest, slowly gearing the ship to land as quietly and softly as possible. “It’s a bit of a walk from here, I don’t have enough credits to pay for a space.”

She took off her seat belt and ran towards the hatch, hand on the pad. Her childish thrill made her forget until he pointed towards his door. “Oh, you’re right!”

He was wide awake when she grabbed him, sensing her excitement. She waited until the ship came into a sudden stop, slamming her hand on the hatch’s button. She had no sense of direction on this new planet, looking back at Din. It didn’t matter what the sea looked like. He only hoped his vision was correct, that this dream wouldn’t snap him awake and he was caught in a lonely and desperate clutch of sleep. His devotion, his single proclamation of love, was waiting at the door, sweeter than any sunrise and smoother than any tide. 

“Are you coming?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “This time I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! I really enjoyed this, I'm not used to overly fluffy things but it was needed! I may continue their story in other shorter pieces, we'll see where life takes me.
> 
> Thank you ALL for your kudos and comments. They truly make me smile and feel warm, you are all truly valuable! 
> 
> PS: I was too tired to fully edit this so PLEASE let me know if there are any glaring mistakes to this!


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